


Mercy

by leviphiliac (NanaBC)



Series: Mercy [1]
Category: Afraid of Monsters & Cry of Fear
Genre: Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, POV Second Person, Suicide Attempt, will add more tags as i post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-05 21:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 35,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13396416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NanaBC/pseuds/leviphiliac
Summary: David Leatherhoff never knew where those pills came from. Now he faces the consequences for abusing them, but not before a trip down memory lane.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, I know this fandom is practically non-existent, but I wrote this mostly for myself. Chapters are short, but there are plenty of them. I didn't want to start posting before I saw the ending happening in my head. It took a while, but it finally happened. I think posting something you don't intend to finish is extremely douchey, and I wouldn't do it even if there is no one to read it.
> 
> Well, then here it is. The thing.

You open your eyes and look around. The whiteness of the ceiling, walls, floor and sheets hurt you, and you close them tight for a few moments before you try again. Your mind only now registers the beeping coming from beside you, and that coupled with an IV stand beside the bed makes it pretty obvious where you are.

 _Did I OD?_ you think, already knowing the answer. You know you should have abandoned those pills a long time ago, you didn't even know why you were taking them anymore. But you just couldn't seem to stop. It's like they were designed to addict.

'It's like'? They were obviously designed with that purpose. And you're a little puppet who was designed to get addicted to everything that crossed your path. Ever since you were a kid, and wouldn't lay off the sugar. And your Atari, which you would play from the moment you got home from school until it was time for bed again. Your parents saw no problem in this, the TV raised you for them, so they were probably thankful for it.

As you grew up, the video game fever died down, but your need to obsess over something didn't. You traded the games and sugar for nightclubs and vodka. You'd go out every night, faithful fake ID in hands, and find a hole in the wall where you could drink and dance the night away. Dancing was slowly replaced by sex, but you always had a hard time finding someone to your taste, and when you did, it was only for the night, as you found it hard to believe your parents would approve of the people that were 'to your taste'.

But you wouldn't do drugs. You were smart enough to know they'd be the end of you if you tried anything even once. You were curious, sure, as all your friends were taking one thing or another and laughing at you and calling you straight edge, even if you were falling down drunk. Regardless, you kept strong.

When you found the pills for the first time, you promptly threw them away. But not before examining them first. The label had your name on it, and everything else had been scratched out. You hurled the bottle in the dumpster below your window, not finding the whole thing as weird as you should have. You had just woken up, and was still a little drunk from the night before. The next day, they were in your windowsill again, just as they had been before, and this time, you had a proper reaction.

"What in the actual fuck?" You became properly paranoid, searching your room for an intruder, but finding none. 

_You run to the TV room, where your mother is in her usual spot, watching soaps with a cigarette burning between yellow fingers._

_"Mom? Did you put these in my room?""_

_"Put what? You're old enough to do your own laundry, Davey."_

_Which you did, yours, hers and your father's. You shake the bottle, making the pills rattle inside. "I'm talking about these."_

_"Huh? What are those? Give them here."_

_"No, I… I don't know what they are. My name's on them though. I'm throwing them away."_

_"Don't be stupid. At least try one. What if they're good?"_

_You sigh at your irresponsible mother and head to the bathroom. "Good? Do you think they're gonna make me shit golden bricks or something?"_

_As you flush them down the toilet, you still hear her muttering something about selling them._

_When you wake up the next day to find them once again in the same place, you feel a mix of fear and annoyance. The bottle even seems to be exactly the same you threw in the toilet bin the day before, the same scratched out label._

_You'll do an experiment. You take the bottle, close the window and the blinds, and you hide it in your secret spot, a hole behind your bed with an outlet cover over it._

_In the morning, you open one eye, knowing you'll see them there again. Nightclubs and liquor and sex suddenly lie in the back of your mind, as this mysterious bottle of pills start to take up the front. You're staring at your new obsession._

_You jump from the bed and search the hiding spot. Seeing it empty brings a chill down your spine. You take the one from the window and empty it on your dresser, arranging the pills in a line. There are ten of them, less than you expected. And they're plain and white, not a single detail to mark them in any way._

_You sniff one, it smells like nothing. You lick it, and the temptation to try one licks you back. You nervously throw them back into the bottle. What good would that do?_

_So you decide to sleep clutching the bottle in your hands, but not before making sure your door and window are locked, and there is no one hiding in your room._

_When you wake up, you're still holding the bottle, but it's open, and you're holding one of them between two fingers. You laugh out loud for a few seconds, throw the pill in the air and swallow it dry._

_"There! Are you happy now?" you scream, prompting your father to yell back for you to shut the fuck up. You sit and wait. For a while, it seems like nothing will happen, but then you look at your hands and they are melting. You hold back another scream, letting out a desperate gasp instead._

_You look in the mirror, and your face is melting off too, and your eyes are two black holes. This makes you realize you're having a hallucination, so you run to the bathroom to throw some cold water on your face. As you do so, you see bits of flesh and skin dripping on the sink, and try to force your brain to understand it's just water._

_Looking in the mirror again, you see your face is now just a wax mask, red and featureless. You stick a finger down your throat and throw up in the toilet. The half-dissolved pill swims around, twitching like a worm._

_You drink water straight from the faucet until your stomach starts to hurt, then you go back to your room, lie down and close your eyes._

_You manage to hold off for ten days before you try another._


	2. Chapter 2

You would only take them while locked up in your room, lowering the chances of seeing someone while in that state. If you looked like that, what would other people look like? What if you tried to do something to them?

The only time you remember going out while under their influence was when a friend of yours, well, the only friend you had back then, called you begging for help. But the only thing you remember about that night is hanging up the phone and leaving. You don't remember what happened, nor coming back home. Spike, the guy you went out to help says he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, you just picked him up and dropped him off at a train station. So at least there's that.

For a while, you enjoyed the numbness the pills brought with them, after the hallucinations started to dissipate. Even though you were afraid your mom was going to kick you out whenever she told you to clean up the house and you weren't in proper condition to do so. But in the end, even a half-assed job was better than nothing at all.

Then out of nowhere, the numbness ceased to happen, it was only the hallucinations. You kept taking them, certain that there must have been a problem with that one, and the next would be fine, but it didn't come back. And to top it all off, the hallucinations were getting worse. Even the environment around you would start to change, walls would look mouldy or splattered in blood, everything dilapidated. You could swear you were even smelling rotten things. There were times you would wake up drenched in blood because you had harmed yourself one way or another. You could never remember why or how.

Yet, you still took them. Even without the added bonus of lethargy, you were compelled to swallow pill after pill.

Until the day with all the mess.

As always, the whole night was less than a blur, you remember moving around a lot, and noise, so much noise. When you woke up, there was blood. Not just on your clothes and bed this time. There was blood all over the room. On the walls, on the floor, there was even some on the ceiling.

But that wasn't the worst part. Oh, no. Checking yourself for open wounds, you only found shallow, small cuts on your arms that didn't look like they had been made by a knife. Glancing around the room again, you could see… flesh. Bits and pieces of something unrecognizable strewn around. There was nothing identifiable, and you couldn't tell if they were from an animal or… not.

_Deciding you don't want to find out, you run out the door and pick up the phone. Your mom will be asleep for another four hours and you father already left for work, so you're safe walking around the house looking like the main character in a particularly gory b-movie._

__

__

_"Spike? It's me. Remember that favor you owe me? No, I don't give a fuck you worked all night. Get over here in ten minutes or you'll regret it."_

_You lock yourself in the bathroom and practically dive into the bathtub. After you leave, the water has a disgusting pink hue, and you drain it and clean it before you leave._

_Your friend is waiting for you in the living room, and you don't waste any time in getting to what you want._

_"Alright, listen. Whenever you need a getaway driver, I never ask any questions, and if someone questions me, I don't know you. I expect you can do the same. I need you to clean my room. I don't want to see it again."_

_Spike glares at you with a disdainful look. "Tell me you didn't get me out of bed for this."_

_"It's not just a normal mess, you fuck, it's… look, you'll see." You grab every cleaning utensil you can find and hand it to him. "Please. Do this for me and I'll… I'll fix you up with something good. Something that's right up your alley."_

_"Hmm, don't tell me you got mandies on you. You? Straight edge you? Fine then. I'll make up your little bed for you. Oh my God. You didn't shit the bed, did you? Is that what this's about?"_

_"Spike. Promise me. Promise me you won't say a word about whatever you find in there. Not to me or anybody. Just… just clean it up and go. Here." You hand him some black trash bags. "Whatever you think has to be thrown away, just do it. There's a bottle of pills by the window, just take the whole thing. But never talk to me about it." You wonder how much of a dirtbag you're being for pushing those things on him, but then again, you've seen him taking all kinds of shit, and he always ends up fine._

_You open the door for him and quickly close it again after he enters. Then you set off to do the laundry. Then you do the dishes from dinner last night, and afterwards you even clear out some of the mess gathered in the basement. Spike hasn't come out yet._

_It isn't before a whole two hours pass that you see him again, and he has an absolutely haunted look on his pale face._

_"You didn't have to ask me not to talk to you again. Not about this or anything. We're done."_

_He leaves without another word, taking a couple of the half-filled trash bags with him. That's the last time you see him._

_Your room is pristine, even if devoid of sheets and pillowcase, and the bottle of pills is still by the window. You don't know if he didn't take it or if it's just another respawn._

That morning had been the final straw. You put some clothes in a bag and decided to check yourself in at the nearest hospital that had a rehab program. A little research informed you that would be St. Mercy, only a few bus stops away. And it was free, which seemed too good to be true, but it wouldn't hurt to try. 

So you took your bag and left, without telling anyone. Your parents would probably only notice you were gone after the trash started to accumulate around the house. Screw them.

The place looked nice, if a bit isolated. A six storey building with a garden around it. Very serene. But…

But you had to stop by the restroom before checking in. And you had to notice a certain bottle over the sink. It was still the same one. You cursed at it, and threw it against the mirror. You had never felt more like crying in your whole life.

You crawled towards the bottle and swallowed the white little worms, one by one.

Then, instead of the black you were expecting, there was only red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter... soon :)


	3. Chapter 3

As always, you can barely remember anything you dreamed or hallucinated. You remember red. And a hospital, but it wasn't clean and tidy like this one.

The beeping machine annoys you, and you're not sure if it's just the noise, or if it's because it means you're still alive. Your stomach feels awful, and your mouth tastes like you fell asleep face first on the beach.

A doctor eventually shows up to explain they found you lying on the bathroom floor, clutching an empty bottle of something they've yet to identify, and managed to bring you back after you flatlined for a few seconds.

You let him know that, ironically, you're here for the rehab program, and he happily informs you how it works.

"The minimum period is 30 days, but we often encourage longer stays, as they allow us to better work on the detoxing and understanding the reasons behind your addiction, while it also gives you more recovery time. We can discuss which plan works better for you after we talk for a bit."

You explain to him that you've been taking the pills for a long time. The first time you found them was over two years ago, but you barely took any on the first year, as they still freaked you out too much. The heavier abuse started about a year ago.

Then you tell him about how before the pills you'd been addicted to other things, and while some of them weren't particularly harmful to your health, you still thought of them as manias ever since you were old enough to understand what that was. You tell him how you constantly feel the need to obsess over something, and that's why you steered clear from drugs until the seemingly irresistible pills came along.

After you're done, the doctor asks if six months is viable for you. You think it's way too much, but then again, there's nothing urgent for you to come back to in a rush. So you agree. He prints out a contract, which he asks you to carefully read and, if you agree to it, sign it. He leaves, giving you privacy to do so.

You do read it carefully, the program still seems too good to be true, what with it being free and all. You have to make sure you're not signing up to have your organs removed in the middle of the night or something.

But the contract is very clear and professional. It explains you'll be provided with a private room with simple amenities, such as a bed and a closet. Bed linens and towels are washed by the hospital's personnel, and they can wash your personal items too for a small fee, or you can use their laundry room and do it yourself. You'll keep your pennies, after all, laundry is something you're personally acquainted with.

You'll be provided with three daily meals at specific times, which you can eat at the cafeteria or have it delivered to your room, again, for a small fee. There is a recreational room with games, movies and books, which you're free to use, as long as it's not past curfew.

Regular patients are not allowed on the fifth floor, which is for patients that require security surveillance. The contract assures such patients do not pose a threat to others, but they have to be maintained under surveillance as it is required by law. Okay.

The rehab clinic part of the hospital is a new implement, and since St. Mercy worked as a regular hospital before, it still takes emergency cases. Non-emergency patients are referred to another hospital.

Treatments include psychotherapy, hydrotherapy, neurofeedback, hypnotherapy and cognitive behavioral therapy, while they also intend to implement holistic therapy in the near future. Neat. If you end up coming back after you leave, you can learn some yoga.

You're required to turn in your mobile at check in, as a means to disconnect from the outside world and help focus on recovering. You're also required to turn in any sharp objects you might have brought or anything that might be used as a weapon. Well, it's not like you can detach your hands.

Finally, your checkout date, after specified, may not be changed, and you're strongly encouraged not to leave the premises until the end of your treatment.

Just as you finish reading the contract, the doctor returns with a pen for you to sign it, and your paranoia kicks in, making you wonder if he hasn't been watching you the whole time. But you dismiss it, you're here to get better, maybe you should get that looked at too.

You sign the contract, informing the doctor that you don't own a cell phone, and the only things you brought are clothes and toiletries. The doctor tells you the secretary will come by with other paper you'll need to fill, such as your personal information and whatnot. Before he speaks again, you ask what's been on your mind ever since your first heard about St. Mercy.

"How come the treatment's free?"

"Back when St. Mercy was still a regular hospital, we had a, erm, a very wealthy patient in dire need of rehab, and after she spent a few months with us and the results turned up better than expected, her family was so pleased that they offered to share their joy with the less fortunate. With their funding, St. Mercy became a rehab facility and mental health clinic."

That sounds pretty cheesy, but whatever. So maybe they won't harvest your organs after all. But you'll still keep an eye out for any oddities.

The doctor asks if you have any further questions, and when you say no, he shows you to your room. You're only pleased to get rid of the beeping noise.

Your bag is already in the closet, and you change to a more comfortable outfit before asking for a payphone. You'll call your mother after all, you'll be staying for a long time, and you'd feel bad if she worried after you.

You tell her the situation, and she hangs up on you. Wow, screw her very much. Wasn't she the one who told you to try one of those goddamn pills in the first place?

...Will you even have a place to come back to after the treatment is over? You know you've way passed the time to leave home, but, well, you don't have to work or pay for anything, and you're lazy as hell. Your parents are idiots, granted, but it seemed worth it so far.

Maybe changing that would be a good idea too. Would someone even hire you if they knew you've never worked before, at your age?

Well, that's a question for another day, isn't it?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here's the other main character.

You don't eat anything the whole day, as your stomach's still upset, and you're surprised to wake up the next day and not see a bottle of pills anywhere. After finding that last one in the bathroom, you were sure they were going to follow you for the rest of your life if you didn't do anything about it.

You fall asleep again and end up missing lunch, which is fine since you still don't feel like eating anything. Later, a red-haired nurse with breasts so big you just can't help but stare, shows up in your room. She motions her hand towards her face.

"Up here, honey. It's time for group therapy. And since it's your first day, I'll take you. Next time, you're on your own."

Ugh, you really don't want to share all your problems with a bunch of strangers. "Do I have to? Can't I just see a shrink in private?"

"You don't have to do anything, but you came here to get better, didn't you? Group sessions are a great help. You'll hear from people who might have issues similar to yours, others with completely different things going on in their lives. But they'll share their experiences, how they get through their difficulties, and talk about what they're still going through as well. And you can help them too. Anything you share might be important to someone else. Now come on, it's already starting." She tries to take your hand, but you hastily pull it back before she can touch it. "I'm sorry, I… didn't mean to…"

And now you feel like a jackass. "No, it's fine. Uh… do I have to talk too, or can I just listen?"

"You'll only talk when you feel comfortable about it, I promise. The counselor might ask you to introduce yourself, but if you don't say anything afterwards, he'll understand you're not ready to talk." You notice she has crossed her arms, holding her elbows, and you get up because now you have to go.

"Alright. Lead the way."

While your room is on the second floor, the area where group therapy takes place is on the fourth. There are several large windows, and you can see the view outside is beautiful. Trees you've never seen before surround the building, giving you the impression you're not in Stockholm anymore.

Then you look at the people sitting in a circle in the middle of the room. There are about ten men and women, and they all look like shit. Did the pretty scenery make you forget you were in rehab?

As you approach the circle and sit on one of the empty chairs, a bald yet strangely attractive woman is talking about how abuse is the only form of love she knows. At first it looks like she's sporting two black eyes, but then you realize it's just smudged make-up. A blond man with long hair wipes a tear and nods his head as he watches her.

Some of them are smoking, despite the obvious 'No Smoking' signs you've seen all over the place. You continue looking at everyone else in the circle, but the only person that grabs your attention is a bearded man in a wheelchair.

He's watching the woman too, and sometimes he moves his mouth, as if he wants to say something, but she doesn't stop speaking for a moment.

This guy has heavy bags under his eyes, and looks to be that type of person that never cracks a smile at anything. Ever. Well, he _is_ in a wheelchair.

But his eyes are bright, and they're what draw yours in, because you swear you've seen them before. You have no idea where or when, but you're sure of it. You're absolutely sure.

He doesn't say anything, though, after the woman is done speaking, and in the back of your mind you hear the guy you suppose is the counselor, seeing as he looks less dishevelled than everyone else, say something to her. You've tuned him out trying to remember where you know that guy from, but then he opens his mouth and you bring the real world back in.

"Sophie was here yesterday. She's nice enough to come alone, but the ring on her finger is the same thing as she bringing her boyfriend along. Or fiancé, I should say."

He sounds younger than he looks, and that's not the type of thing you were expecting he would say. Girl problems? Really?

"I'm starting to think doctor Purnell was right about her visits", he continues.

"Aw, Simon. She doesn't deserve you anyways. You know I'm here for you, right?"

"Oh, shut up, Lucy."

You turn your head to see who Lucy is. Another red-haired, who appears to be at least twice Simon's age. Her beard is twice as big too.

The counselor starts to say something again, this time related to this woman's visits really being detrimental, and you're tuning him out again. You can't stop looking at Simon's face. Where do you know him from? Ever since you stopped going to nightclubs, you kind of stopped going out altogether. And you know he's not some random person you might have seen on the line at the grocery store or something like that. Why would you remember him then? There's nothing really remarkable about him.

You realize you're staring, and you're just about to turn your gaze to something else, when he catches you looking and glares at you. You do avert your eyes then, feeling like you've been caught doing something wrong.

Eventually the counselor asks you to introduce yourself, and you only give your first name. He looks at you for a moment and declares the session over.

Well, that was an experience.

When you go back to your room, you feel your temperature rising, and your hands start to tremble. You lie down, cursing yourself for not having eaten anything the past couple of days. But then the trembling intensifies, and suddenly there are people around you. You open your mouth, but you have no idea if you're saying anything, or what you're saying. The room goes ice cold, and you pass out.

When you come to, it's dark outside, and a nurse is leafing through a magazine. It's not the red, this one's blonde, and seems to be as thin as a Barbie doll.

Your mouth tastes foul, meaning you vomited, although you can't smell anything. It's probably been cleaned up already. You close your eyes, and when you open them again, you're in complete darkness. You try to get up only to find out that you can't move. Did they tie you to the bed or something? No, you don't feel any sort of restraints on you.

No, that's not right. You feel like your whole body is being restrained. You try moving your hands, and they don't obey. Neither do your fingers, or your head. Nothing but your eyes move. You scream, but it's only in your head. Your mouth doesn't move either, and no sound come of it.

You panic, but nothing happens. Your eyes move frantically around the room, while adjusting to the darkness.

There is a cloaked figure standing by the door.

It approaches you slightly, and it opens its mouth. It whispers softly, but you can clearly make out what it says.

"This is what it feels like."


	5. Chapter 5

In the morning, none of that seems real. You sit up and wipe sweat off your forehead, and the trembling starts again.

You've never craved the pills before, as they were constantly being provided to you. Now you're at the point of closing your eyes and making a wish, hoping they will magically appear. Isn't that how it worked before?

People start entering your room, probably the same ones from yesterday, and they help you out.

So this is withdrawal, huh. Not fun at all.

Your psychiatrist has a soft, lulling voice, and you like him instantly. He says his name is doctor Kellogs or something, and you laugh in a daze. It's then that you feel something in your arm and notice you're on a drip. It must be something good, because all you feel is a hazy fog in your head.

The doctor speaks, and you speak back, although you're not entirely sure what is being said. Then he leaves, and the only person left in the room is the Barbie nurse. She smiles at you, and you stare at her gapped teeth and smile back. Then you pass out again.

This time you don't wake up paralyzed, and doctor Kellogs is sitting beside you, picking a scab in his hand.

"What's up, doc?" You have always wanted to say that.

He startles and stops picking at the scab immediately. "Oh, you're awake! Do you think you're okay to talk now?"

"I guess. I don't really remember much of what happened last time we spoke."

"Well, I tried asking some questions, and you wouldn't stop pointing out how funny it was that I was named after a cereal. Which I'm not. But it was not a good idea to take you out of the drip feed, as it is needed to counterbalance the sudden lack of the substance you were accustomed to take so regularly. I wish you could tell me about your family, David. You did mention that you live with your mother and father. What is it like in your household?"

You shrug, not really wanting to discuss that. What is there to say? Your parents are assholes? You shouldn't be living with them anyway because you're 27? "It's normal, I guess. I don't know."

"Mhmm." The doctor scribbles something in the clipboard he's holding, and you curse yourself. Come on, you can lie better than that.

You can't help feeling his questions are too intrusive. You can't answer any of them without feeling like you're baring yourself to the world, so you alternate between lying and changing the subject. After a while, the doctor sighs and recommends you try the recreation area, which so happens to be the same room as yesterday's group therapy session.

You remember Spike telling you about his first rehab, and you're pretty sure you could leave way earlier and go back to your room and your pills, if you acted the way you know is expected of you.

But then, flashes of red invade your mind and you grab your head, closing your eyes tight. You don't want that to happen again, whatever _that_ was.

You ignore the recreation area and go back to your room, hiding under the covers.

You feel awful, like… like you'd be better off dead, but you don't want to kill yourself. If someone entered this room right now and killed you though, you'd probably thank them.

The door swings open, and it's one of the nurses, the busty one, and she's supposed to look after you.

"Do you think…" you take a deep breath to stop your voice from breaking. "Do you think that I could be alone for a moment?" You already know the answer.

"I'm afraid that's not going to be possible. At least not in the beginning. If your symptoms begin again, it's important to have someone near you to look after you."

"Fuck. Alright. Okay. I'm gonna cry under the covers regardless, if that's okay with you."

"Oh. Don't you prefer to talk about it?"

"No, I don't. I really don't. Not right now."

You try not to put up a show for her though, and you turn your back to her as the first few tears start to escape.

After a while, you feel a hand on your head, and you're just about to tell her about how you don't really appreciate being touched without your consent, in case she didn't get it that first time, when you see through the window reflection that she's still sitting by the door, and there's no one by your bed.

You're imagining it, just like you did last night. But that hand felt so real. You close your eyes, and when you feel the hand again, you let it stay there.

***

You wake up with hands around your throat, and you're paralyzed again. But you don't see anyone. The hands aren't pressing, not yet.

"You destroyed my life." It's the same whispered voice, and you can tell whoever's speaking is in tears.

 _Who are you?_ You want to ask, but your voice won't come out. Is it… is this related with that night in your room? You finally admit to yourself that you might have killed someone, and this is them somehow trying to get revenge on you.

But what did you do to this person? Before you can think about it, the hands around your throat tighten and your consciousness fades, and the next thing you know, you're dreaming.

You're on the streets of Stockholm, and the hooded figure is standing on a corner. You get closer, close enough to touch them. And when you do, you pull his hood down.

But it doesn't help much. All you see is a bloodied face, and whoever this is, seems to be very young.

"Did I kill you?" Your voice clearly comes out now.

The boy, that's what you see him as now, forcefully pushes you away and points a gun to your head.

"You might as well have." He pulls the trigger, and you feel a heavy pressure in your head. You can smell the blood and gunpowder as you watch him lowering the gun in slow motion. The last thing you see before your vision starts to fade is a foot descending upon your head.

This time you do wake up, drenched in sweat and trembling again. Your heart is beating way too fast, and you feel like it's going to burst from you chest.

"I think I'm dying." You don't know if your voice comes out or not, and you don't really care. But still, a doctor and a nurse rush to your side with their equipment, doing what they can to stabilize you.

Hours later, they tell you that you had a seizure, and that it might happen again. Even though you feel like you deserve it, you can't help feeling angry.

"Isn't there anything you can do to prevent it?"

"Your brain is going back to normal, David. Without the substance depressing it…" Blah blah blah is all you hear. You don't want to know about technical shit right now, it seems really unimportant.

"What… what were those pills anyway? Did you figure it out?"

The doctor looks momentarily embarrassed. "You really don't know? Well, you see, something… strange happened. The sample we had of it… I don't mean to say it was misplaced. The labelled container is still in the lab, but there's nothing inside. The bottle we retrieved from you hands has vanished too."

You gape at the doctor, shaking your head at the lack of professionalism. "You lost it."

"We didn't lose it! Both chemists swear the thing simply disappeared. This is a well-respected establishment. This sort of thing is not normal, I can assure you. Can't you tell me a little bit more about those pills? Where did you get them from?"

Now it's your turn to look embarrassed. You haven't talked about it because you know how ridiculous it sounds. You glance at your chipped black nail polish, which you had completely forgotten you had on, wishing you had removed it before coming here. "Someone… gave them to me. I don't know. They were on my windowsill one day, and they just kept coming back afterwards."

"Someone gave them to you." For a moment, you can hear your previous disdain in his voice. "David, if you're not honest with us, we won't be able to help you."

"I'm telling the truth, goddamnit! I know… I know how it sounds, but I don't have a better explanation. Why would I lie? I checked in myself. I want to get rid of them."

"You could be trying to protect someone. We won't tell the police, we just need to--"

"I swear to you I don't know. I'm not protecting anyone. The only friend I had doesn't want anything to do with me anymore."

The doctor sighs, messing with the papers on his clipboard. "Alright, then. Let me know if you remember anything else."

"Yes, officer", you reply sarcastically.

You don't feel well enough for group session, but the doctor makes you go anyway. You suppose you'll at least get a better look at the man, Simon, you remind yourself. See if you can remember where you know him from this time.

You fight to keep down the little bit of lunch you had as you wait for the others to arrive. When Simon doesn't show up, you know something's wrong. Before you can think about what you're doing, you ask the counselor if he knows anything about it.

"I can't discuss it with other patients. But he's… I shouldn't say 'fine', but he'll show up later, or at least he promised so."

This doesn't exactly put you at ease, but you relax a little. You wonder why you care. Is it because of the feeling that you know him, and he could be the only thing close to an acquaintance you could have?

The counselor, Jonesy as he introduces himself, asks you if you want to say something, but nothing comes to mind. You're not ready for this.

Lucy talks about her late husband, and how much she regrets being so high she didn't notice him falling asleep on the tub until it was too late.

When the session is about to end, Simon shows up with a guilty look on his face. He stays a little behind the circle, but Jonesy moves away, motioning for the space he had reserved for him. Simon awkwardly rolls his wheelchair in, but doesn't say anything, keeping his head down.

After a moment of silence, Lucy opens her mouth, but Jonesy raises a hand to ask her to wait. Eventually, Simon raises his head, but doesn't look at anyone in particular.

He points towards the wheel under him, and you notice a part of the spokes is broken. Raising his eyebrows, he finally speaks.

"It took me so long to get it off, and they've already taken it from me. And I had to hear a lecture about vandalizing hospital property. I'm not proud of this. And I hadn't felt like doing it for a while. But… but sometimes it's just too much, you know?" He crosses his arms. "Although I wasn't planning on getting caught. I was bandaging it myself, but I was too sloppy yesterday, and ended up bleeding on my shirt."

You feel dumb for not having figured out what he was talking about until the last moment. He'd broken a piece of his wheelchair so he could cut himself with it. You watch him as he continues to speak, only now noticing his accent, which you guess might be Norwegian. 

"I'm sorry if I worried anyone. I'm not trying to kill myself, I swear I'm not. I don't think I'll ever forgive the bastard who did this to me, but I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never walk again. That's no reason to kill myself. My life was already shit before it happened. It made things infinitely worse, sure, but writing about it helped a little. I don't really feel like dying anymore, even if I have nothing to live for. Besides, if I die, I can't… I can't atone for what I did."

"Simon…" Jonesy puts a hand on his shoulder, and he flinches a little. You can relate to that. "You know it wasn't your fault. And--"

"It wasn't on purpose, you mean. Because it damn well was my fault. I was--"

"Simon, come on now. It wasn't your fault. You were under heavy medicine, and--"

"You know I took more than I should have!" He doesn't quite yell, but his soft voice raises considerably. "I was… I was in too much p-- I… that was…" His voice cracks, and he lowers his head. "That was me giving up. But they showed up before I--"

"Simon, let's talk in private, okay?"

"No, Jonesy. Fuck you. Stop trying to defend me. I'm… I'm done talking." As he turns his wheelchair to leave, Jonesy grabs his arm. For a moment, you see the most raw blind fury in Simon's face, and Jonesy must have seen it too, because he lets go of him immediately.

As he leaves, the counselor looks around the circle nervously. "I think this is it for today."

You go back to your room, ruminating what you've learned. It didn't do anything to help you remember where you know Simon from, but now you're curious to know more about him.

So he was in a wheelchair because of an accident, a hit and run likely. And he did… something while under the influence of drugs. Again, you can relate.

Wouldn't that be the perfect ice breaker? 'Hey, you did something stupid while high out of your mind? Me too!'

You shake your head and sigh.

Maybe you know him from school? Or a nightclub? You scour your brain, thinking about your more memorable one night stands, but none of them look even remotely like Simon. And there's also the fact that he doesn't act like he knows you.

Maybe you're mistaken, after all. Your memory isn't exactly your strongest suit.

You decide you'll talk to him tomorrow, if he's in a better mood.

Bed time is calm for once, and you sleep the whole night without any dreams or nightmares.


	6. Chapter 6

You wake up feeling surprisingly okay. Not great, not even good, but okay. You wonder if Simon is in the mood to talk, when you realize you have no idea where his room is. You ask the red nurse, and she just stares at you, as if she hadn't understood the question. You're about to repeat yourself, when she speaks.

"Simon can't see any visitors."

What? Why? You voice your questions, but she doesn't answer. You're quickly getting pissed off at this woman. You get up, decided to talk to someone else, when she clicks her tongue in exasperation.

"Simon is… a special patient. Uh… another institution has left him in our care." She raises her eyebrows at you, and when you just stare back at her, she sighs and lowers her voice to almost a whisper. "He's a fifth floor patient."

You then remember the contract. It said the fifth floor was for patients that had to be kept under surveillance, and they couldn't receive visitors. 

Well, that's totally shit. "Isn't there anything I can do? I really wanna see him." If you're going to have to bribe someone, you're in hot water.

The nurse looks around with a glint in her eyes. "I don't know. I don't know anything about the emergency stairs camera being busted, and that security doesn't pay much attention from 3:00 to 4:00 pm. because they're too busy with their donuts and a horrid cop show on the telly. And I also don't know Simon's room number." She clears her throat. "505."

You smile at her lack of subtlety. "Well, thanks for not helping me."

"David... Simon is very sensible. But… you are too, aren't you? I think you might be good for one another."

Are you? You have no idea. You thank her again, and sit back down because it's still ten o'clock. When the clock down the hallway shows ten to 3, you leave. You're not even sure if you know where the emergency stairs are. But following the signs, you easily find them. You climb the three sets of stairs and carefully push the heavy fireproof door, looking around. Room 505 is at the end of a hallway and you quickly make your way to it.

You knock softly 3 times. There's a low screech of rubber on linoleum, and a moment later, Simon opens the door. He frowns, obviously not expecting you.

"Hi. Can we talk?" Congratulations, David. That's a great start.

"Sure, I guess. But keep your voice down. I'm sure you know you're not supposed to be here." He moves away from the door, and you enter his room, closing it behind you.

"I'm David, by the way."

"Simon." He looks at you expectantly, and suddenly the short sentence you had on your mind the whole day feels like a cheap pick-up line now.

"I, uh… I was just wondering if I knew you from somewhere."

"I don't think so." He squints his eyes at you. "Wait, you're not one of the bullies from school, are you?"

Your throat makes a sound between a groan and a laugh. "Bully, me?" You can't think of a way to tell him how far from the truth that is, so you simply say you're not.

You feel awkward standing up while he's sitting down, and you look around, eyeing a chair by the bed. "Can I sit here?"

He stares at the chair for a moment, then looks away. "Sure."

You sit, feeling slightly nervous. "Where did you go to school?" He says a name you're not even sure you understand, but it's not the same as yours. "And… did you go to any clubs before, uh…" You're so damn afraid of sticking your foot in your mouth that you actually start sweating.

"No, never got the chance." He shrugs. "I don't like dancing anyway."

You swallow a lump in your throat. You probably don't know him from anywhere, then. Maybe he just has one of those familiar faces. "I'm sorry. I was under the impression that I knew you from somewhere."

Simon is looking out the window, and you wonder if he even heard you. When you're about to get up and leave this awkward situation, he speaks again.

"I don't really know anyone, so that's unlikely. I mean, now I know all the others here, however they might come and go, but I only talk to Lucy, sometimes. Then she tries to hit on me and I tell her to go to hell."

You hold back a chuckle. "What, you don't like older women?"

"Well, even if she didn't have a dick, I still wouldn't buy it."

"Huh? Why not?"

He looks at you then like you just asked him why he doesn't like setting his hair on fire. "Are you thick or what? What could anyone possibly ever want with someone like me?"

Anyone else saying something like that, you'd think they'd be just playing dumb to get a compliment. But you know that's not the case here.

And you also know you have no idea of what to say to him. The only thing you do know is that it wasn't a stupid question. You have no idea who this guy is, but he doesn't seem bad. He doesn't seem bad at all.

So you try.

"What do you mean, someone like you? Just because you're in a wheelchair, it doesn't mean you don't deserve some nookie every now and then." Nookie? Really David? You wish you could punch yourself.

Simon groans. "There's that. There's the fact that I'm a creep who tried too hard to push his feelings on his best-- on my only friend. I'm lucky she still speaks to me. Oh yeah, and there's the fact that I'm a murderer."

The lump in your throat is back, and this time it takes longer for it to go down. "Who… did… I mean, can I--"

"It's no secret. After all, I was even on the news. Although they didn't show my face. Well, that's what my doctor told me, but who knows, that might be where you think you know me from. Anyway, after the accident, I was at a point where I didn't want to fight anymore, so I ended up taking a lot of pills, but instead of dying, I had a psychotic break. I faced my demons in my head, and I shot them dead.

"This made me feel better, that is, until I regained consciousness and realized I had shot two cops that entered my house because a neighbor heard all the noise I was making and called them. Purnell, that's my doctor, he testified in my favor, and I didn't go to jail. I came here instead. This place is my home now, for the rest of my life. And you know what? I'm okay with that."

You watch him in surprise. That's not what you were expecting at all. Then you remember how he put it yesterday. "Oh, so that's why you said it wasn't on purpose, but it was your fault. I can understand that."

Simon looks at you with such relief that you actually smile. "Thank you. I can't stand being coddled. What's the point in buttering up what happened? I know what I did. Nothing's gonna change that or how I feel about it."

Something clicks just then. "You don't like Jonesy, do you?"

He buffs. "What's there to like? The guy's a prick. And I'm sorry, but I'm just gonna leave it at that."

"It's okay, I just--" Suddenly, you feel your lunch rebelling inside you, and you get up quickly. Simon points at the bathroom door, and you kneel by the bowl just in time. After you're done, you flush twice, and wet a piece of toilet paper to get whatever spilt. You wash your mouth and face, and sit on the bathroom floor, not really feeling the strength to get up yet.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, man. I think this is still gonna go on for a while."

"Whatever, I'm not the one who cleans it anyway. So what's your poison?"

You sigh. "Some fucking pills. I can't even tell you what they are, because I have no idea. But they're poison, alright." Jesus, David. Just shut up already.

You feel awful. Even though Simon told you all that, you just can't bring yourself to confess what you fear you might have done. You can tell him other things.

"Before that, it was always something else. Booze, games, even fucking scratch tickets. I think I'm addicted to being addicted. I just happened to pick up something more dangerous this last time." Seriously David, you're embarrassing yourself.

"And then you did some shit and figured you had enough? Be glad you stopped before you did something that couldn't be undone."

You look away from him. "I don't know about that." You can feel his eyes on you, but you don't elaborate.

He sighs. "We don't even know each other. You don't have to tell me."

"Fuck. You just told me all that, and I can't… I can't even understand what happened." It's a lame excuse, but that's all you can muster at the moment.

"Don't force yourself to say anything. At least that's the advice I was given. By a doctor I actually trust."

You both remain silent for a long moment, until you decide you want to know more, since Simon apparently doesn't mind sharing.

"How about you? Any monkeys on your back?"

"This is my only addiction."He pulls the sleeve of his sweatshirt up to show a bandage and several scars on his wrists. "Although I do like to smoke every now and then. But it's pretty rare."

"Does it help? Cutting?"

"Yeah, I think it does, but I'm the only one."

You don't have anything to say to that. The only times you've self-harmed, you were under the influence, so it's not like you remember.

You kind of want to ask about that Sophie person he talked about, but you have a feeling it's a sensitive subject. So you settle for something else.

"How about your family?"

Simon shrugs like he doesn't have any. "My mom would probably be here all the time if she could, but… she's in jail. And I never had a father."

Is this guy going to surprise you every time he opens his mouth? "What?"

"Yeah, my mom, she…. She killed someone too." He turns the wheelchair away from you and goes back to the window. "Listen, in a few minutes someone's gonna drop by to check on me. You should go."

You get up quickly, and you're pretty sure you're gonna throw up again the moment you're back to your room. "Yeah, okay. Sorry if I bothered you."

"You didn't." You think he wants to say something else, but he remains silent.

"Do you mind if I stop by again some other day?"

Simon's still looking out the window. "Tuesdays and Thursdays when there's no group. I can't on Saturdays, but Sundays are okay too, but it's a little riskier, because the cop show the security guards watch is not on. But they still have their donuts."

"Got it. So I guess I'll see you Sunday then." You think about correcting yourself, since you'll still see each other tomorrow in group, but Simon looks nervous, and you figure you should just go. You open the door, looking around before leaving. "Later."

He raises his eyebrows as he looks at you one last time. "Yeah."

You bolt for the emergency stairs just as the door to the security station opens.


	7. Chapter 7

When the hooded figure appears again in your sleep paralysis, you want to ask him to forgive you for whatever it is you did to him, but just like the other times, you can't move anything but your eyes.

This time though, he just stares at you from the shadows. After a long time, you blink, and he's vanished. You fall into another nightmare, but you're all alone in it, back in your bedroom. You look in the mirror, and your face is melting off, just like that first time. You just stare at the flesh and skin peeling off, feeling absolutely nothing but pure despondency, and you wake up feeling like shit.

The trembling doesn't come back, but you feel like you've eaten something rotten, which is hilarious, since you couldn't eat anything else after throwing up yesterday.

The doctor asks again about your family, and you nonchalantly say they're great. He writes something down, and you sigh.

Later in the day, your hands start to itch and prickle, and you know that feeling very well. You need to do something. Anything. You need an obsession. Anything you can lose yourself in. You look around your room and there are only magazines and harlequin romances the nurses have left behind.

Maybe the recreation room has something more interesting, you haven't bothered to check it out yet.

The first thing you check is the TV, but someone's watching a documentary about landscaping in it. Not your thing. But even if you're not into TV and movies anymore, you still check their selection with an absolute certainty you've already watched every single movie there.

Well, you were wrong. The few westerns, action and suspense movies they carry all have indeed been enjoyed by you. But the bulk of the selection consists of drama and romance flicks, not exactly your favorites. Maybe when you're really, really bored, you can rewatch some classics.

There are darts, the child-friendly type with rubber tips. You'd feel silly playing on your own, especially with other people looking.

There's table football, but it's the same. Board games, obviously made for two or more people.

Without any other choices, you grab the two boxes of dominoes that lie forgotten in the back of the shelves and move to one of the empty tables.

You spend half an hour making random tracks with the tiles, then tipping them, but you can already tell this isn't going to be it. But you settle for now, your hands still itching.

Ten minutes before group, you clear up the table and put the dominoes away. Simon shows up on time and stops by the spot Jonesy has left for him, with Lucy on the other side. Just then, a woman shows up saying there's a call for Jonesy, and he leaves to take it.

You certainly cannot let the opportunity pass.

"Hey," you say, as you sit beside Simon. From the corner of your eyes, you see him looking at you for a moment before replying.

"Hey."

It's not the most riveting conversation you've ever had, but you don't really want to draw attention to the fact that you two have started talking to each other.

Although you keep your head down, you can see Jonesy coming back and stopping for a moment in the middle of the room when he notices his seat has been taken.

He comes back to the circle and sits elsewhere. The session goes on as usual, and you even talk a little bit about being addicted, but don't specify.

You don't talk or look at Simon once, but when you happen to glance at Lucy, she's staring at you hard. You stare back, and she rolls her eyes. When group is over, she grabs you by the arm, ignoring your inhuman growls.

"Now you listen here, pretty boy. Don't you dare harm a single hair on Simon's precious head, y'hear? I will kick your sorry ass if I have to."

You keep looking at her in confusion. Why did things suddenly come to that?

Also, 'pretty boy'? You know you're damn hot, but you've never been called that before.

"Um, Lucy? Yeah, you see, the thing is, I'm going to be staying here for a long time, and I think it'd be easier if I had someone to talk to other than the doctors. And I figured Simon could really use someone like that too."

She shakes her head at you. "You don't fool me for a second. But… I guess there's something about you. You don't look at him like he does, that's for sure. He looks like… like he wants to eat Simon up or something. And I definitely don't mean that in a good way."

Your frown, and your hands close into fists. "Jonesy. What's his deal anyway?"

Lucy crosses her arms with a look of concern. "I'm not sure. All I know is that the aura he gives off is sinister as hell. He doesn't like it when other people talk to Simon, and he insists that it's for Simons's own good. Although I do think he was right about that bag of bones."

Before you can further express your confusion, she continues. "That Sophie. Simon's ex or whatever. He rarely talks about her, and when he does, he sounds so hurt, it's absolutely heartbreaking. He'd be better off if she never set foot in this place ever again."

You feel like you're in over your head, but you don't really care. "I'm not gonna hurt Simon. I promise. I just wanna talk to him. I just think he needs a friend as much as I do."

Lucy's expression finally softens, and she puts a hand on your face, which for some reason, you don't feel compelled to immediately push away. "Oh, my. Not even ten days in and you're already taken by him. Simon really is a mesmerizing creature, isn't he?"

Your confusion deepens even more, because she sure as hell sounds like she thinks you're in love with him.

"What? I… barely know him."

"You're not denying it."

"I'm not. He's not even my type, and I highly doubt I'm his."

"Ah, you young ones have so much to learn."

You decide you have no room to argue against that.


	8. Chapter 8

When you visit Simon again, you can't help but think about Lucy's worries. Because you've been thinking about nothing but Simon, everyday, all day.

But

Come on.

It's been nine days. You barely know him. And he really isn't your type. Isn't it too ridiculous to be true? Maybe you should share it with him to see what he thinks.

"You wanna hear something funny?" When Simon just raises his eyebrows at you, you continue. "Lucy thinks I'm--" You cut yourself off. You can't say that. Come on. Really. Something funny? You kind of doubt Simon will laugh at it. "Nah, forget it. She's just imagining things."

Simon watches you for a while. "You're weird, David." His voice doesn't sound serious at all, and you know he didn't mean it as an insult.

"Yeah, I know." Just then, something crosses your mind. What does Simon do all day? Because he has to stay in his room all the time, right? You look around, but there's nothing out of the ordinary. "So, uh, are there any exhilarating activities I should be aware of in this place?"

"There's the recreation room, so… I'd say no."

You smile. "How about you?"

"Me? Oh, I just write random stupid shit sometimes. I used to listen to music too, but I… well, I don't anymore." You find the way he said that weird, but don't interrupt. "I sorta wrote a book once, but… well, it was kinda based on some games I played. The plot wasn't exactly original. I was the main character, and one night monsters invaded his town and he fought them off as he tried to get home."

"Sounds interesting."

Simon glares at you. "Oh, please. It was my doctor's request as part of therapy. It sucked ass. And I read sometimes too, but all the books here are boring. Then again, it's not like I have all that much time to myself anyway, what with all the therapy I have to go through."

"All the… just how much therapy do you have?"

"Well, I see doctor Purnell every day, and there's anger management and group. And the fucking physiotherapy. Jonesy stops by all the time too, but that counts more as an annoyance."

"Sorry, sounds rough."

Simon shrugs. "I'm used to it. Tell me something about yourself."

You think now's a good time to try and talk about the reason you're here. "Okay, how about this: You wake up one day and suddenly a bottle of pills manifests itself on your window. You take them and they make the world look like hell. Literally. Bleeding walls and monsters everywhere. Even you are a monster. Then you take them again because your life is so boring you prefer the fucking hallucinations. Then… you do something that's too fucked up and decide it's time to stop. You find a nice hospital to check yourself in, then you fucking O.D. in the bathroom. Oh, I said you? I meant me."

"Jesus, David. And what do you mean, 'manifests itself'?"

You give him a crooked smile. "Just that. Now you don't see me, now you do. Magic, Simon."

"That's… kinda hard to swallow." He doesn't seem to acknowledge his slightly punny comment. "But the hallucinations, what I used to take right after the accident would sometimes make me see things that were kinda like that. The weird thing is, the doctor said those pills weren't supposed to give me hallucinations. After the thing with the cops, he obviously changed my prescription."

The accident. Should you ask about it? You're curious to know why he's in a wheelchair. Before you can think about whether or not it's appropriate to ask, he beats you to it.

"You wanna know what happened to me, don't you?"

"If you don't mind telling..."

"I was coming home from work one night when I saw a man lying down on the sidewalk asking for help. I crouched down to see what was going on, and the next thing I know, there's a car speeding towards me. I only had time to stand up. My legs were… well, I can't use them anymore."

"Fuck, that's awful. Did they arrest the guy?"

Simon closes his fists tight, and a flare of anger crosses his eyes for a moment. "No. It was a hit and run. Surveillance cameras caught the license plate, but when they found the owner of the car, he had reported it as stolen a couple of days before, and he could prove he didn't do it. They found it smashed against a tree, so the person driving it was probably drunk."

You can't find words to express your disgust at someone who would do something like that, but Simon sees it on your face.

"I'm working on it. On controlling my anger every time I think about it. Although I would never forgive this person. There's no way I could."

"I wouldn't forgive them either." You don't think that's a productive comment, but it came out spontaneously.

"Anyway, I have physiotherapy every Saturday, but it's not to walk again, that page has been ripped off from my book. It's just for my spine, and so my fucking useless legs won't atrophy. And the worst part is that I haven't lost any feeling on them, and it hurts like hell. It hurts all the time really, but I'm taking something for that too. It's not perfect, but it's enough that I won't scream in pain all day long. Sometimes... sometimes I wish they would just cut them off already."

"Fuck, man. Don't say that. As long as you have them, and you even feel them, isn't there hope?"

Simon shakes his head. "The doctor keeps saying I shouldn't give up hoping, but he doesn't give me anything to hope for. Should he really say something like that to me when he knows it's bullshit? So, do you have a girlfriend?"

Simon's completely sudden change of subject gives you whiplash. "Nah, man. Women are nothing but trouble."

He raises his eyebrows with slight amusement in his eyes. "A boyfriend?"

"Well, the truth is, guys are also nothing but trouble. I think I'm gonna save myself for true love." You say it so seriously that you forget for a moment that you're joking.

"Why don't I believe that?"

"What? You don't think I look like a virgin?"

"No, I really don't. Do I?"

You laugh, shortly. "Well, you're not awful to look at. So I bet you got a least a couple of girls under your belt."

"You guessed wrong." He raises his eyebrows again, and you can't help a smile. "I've never even kissed a girl. Missed my opportunity."

Fuck. You don't want to show you feel sorry for him, but that just makes it even worse. Does that mean Sophie isn't his ex like Lucy thinks?

It comes out before you can think about it. "Well, if you'd like, I could--"

"No, thank you."

You roll your eyes so hard, you could swear it made a sound. "C'mon, man! I was gonna say that I could ask one of the nurses to kiss you. You're not my type, alright? I'm not into beards." You're really not.

"No, don't do that. I don't find any of them pretty anyway."

"Really? Not even the red-haired with the big tiddies?"

"Leanne? Nah, I prefer more slender girls."

"How about the blondie that looks like a Barbie doll?"

"Jeanette. She has gapped teeth."

You snort and faintly remember seeing her smiling at you once. "The brunette with the braids?"

"I think you mean Sissy. She has a girlfriend. And she's buff enough that she can lift me up on her own."

You mention a couple of other nurses whose appearances you remember, but Simon finds glaring flaws in all of them.

"Well, then I don't know what to tell you. You're picky as fuck."

"I didn't ask you to find me a girlfriend. What are you, a pimp?"

You look shocked for a moment, then you burst out laughing, until Simon shushes you.

"Shit, sorry. Forgot for a moment they put you on fucking solitary here. Why aren't you allowed visitors?"

He sighs. "It's not that I can't get visitors. My mood changes easily, and the doctors need to monitor whether or not the people I'm talking to aren't detrimental to my progress. And if this doesn't sound like my own words, it's because I'm just repeating what they've told me."

"Do you think I'm detrimental to you?"

"I have a feeling I should say yes, considering you're suicidal and an addict. But I… I wish you wouldn't stop coming here. Although you should go for now. The guards get way more attentive once their little soap is over."

You have no idea how he can tell how long it has been, it feels like ten minutes to you. But you agree and wave him goodbye, while cautiously opening the door and looking around. Before you leave, you turn towards him once more. "I'm not gonna stop visiting you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I don't think it sucked ass (duh)


	9. Chapter 9

Your appetite slowly goes back to normal as the withdrawal symptoms start to lessen. Soon, the nurses stop monitoring you 24/7, which you're grateful for. It's not like you plan on doing anything bad, it's just that you're really not used to receiving that amount of attention.

As the days pass, you start to feel more comfortable to answer your doctor's questions, but you still lie through your teeth when he asks about something you don't want to talk about. He doesn't mention your family again, which is good, and when he asks about school, you almost lie that you used to be bullied, but then you remember Simon's question when you first visited him, and decide it would be in poor taste. So you just tell him you had many friends and grades as low as they could go. It is the truth, but not even half of it.

Your hands don't itch and prickle anymore, meaning the doctors might be doing something right. For the first time in your life, you're not obsessed with anything.

After talking to doctor Kellogs (you're not a hundred percent sure that's really his name, but at this point it would be too weird to ask), you go back to your room and think about Simon. He's pretty interesting, even if he doesn't seem to think so. You enjoy his company, despite the fact that he never smiles, and he most certainly never laughs, and some days you think he kind of looks like a serial killer, even though you know how absurd this is. You know serial killers look like everyone else.

You're not sure if it's because or despite all these things that you find him interesting, but you do. It doesn't matter. People are usually so boring that when you find someone you actually want to talk to, you prefer not question it.

So you go and see him on Tuesdays,Thursdays and Sundays, talking about whatever comes to mind. One day it's music, and Simon mentions he likes black metal, making you associate him with not only a serial killer, but a satanist too. You know this is pure prejudice, especially because you've had friends who were into black metal before, and none of them were satanists. Then again, if Simon told you he was one, you'd happily go and find him victims for his sacrifices.

You try and stop this absurd train of thought, since you know absolutely nothing about black metal, or satanism for that matter, and you tell him you only listen to punk rock. He looks at you with the same disbelief you probably showed him when he talked about his musical preference.

"Punk rock? You're not a nazi, are you?"

You have to cover your mouth with both hands to suppress a loud laughter that wants to come out. "You know, and here I was thinking you could be a satanist, but having enough tact not to say anything. No, man, I'm not a fucking nazi." 

"Well, I'm not a satanist either. Have you ever even seen one?"

You're about to say no, when you remember a neighbor you had a long time ago. You remember she was beautiful and young. Dolores, you think. One day, your mother dropped you off at her house, asking if she could look after you for the afternoon. The TV was probably broken or something.

You remember every picture she had in her living room. There was one of an upside down star, one of a smiling bald man with a goatee and right on top of the tv there was one of a naked woman with wings and the head of a goat. You stared at it for a moment, kind of afraid to be caught but not caring all that much.

You remember her being super sweet, and letting you watch cartoons and eat candies the whole afternoon. She had a white cat with one eye blue and the other green. Thinking about it now, you can clearly remember that day.

_Dolores' cat jumps on your lap and you raise it to look at its eyes. Its belly has a hairless patch. You look at your neighbor._

_"What happened to your cat?"_

_"Oh, my poor Freddie. Some kids were bullying her, cutting the poor thing up when I first found her. So I saved her. She healed up nicely, but her tummy doesn't grow fur anymore. Well, at least those little rascals won't bother her, or any other creature ever again for that matter."_

You thought nothing of it then, but now thinking about her tone and words, you wonder what happened to those kids.

"I knew one once, but she was really nice. Or uh, maybe she killed some kids. I don't know, I was like 9 or 10."

"I went to a black metal festival once, but I don't think there were any satanists there either."

"I'm sorry, I was joking, I think. It's one of those things that brings a certain image to mind when you hear about something you don't really understand."

"Yeah, I guess. I'm sorry too. But I knew punks who were nazis, that's why I said it."

"It's fine, I knew a couple of them too. Even though they were just posers."

The time to go comes before you know it. It really sucks having so little time to talk to Simon. Sure you speak to each other during group, but it's to comment on whatever it's being talked about, and you still refrain from doing it if you can. You wouldn't care what they would say to you if they knew you were visiting him, but it could be bad for Simon.

The hooded figure shows up once more, but it's only to ask something over and over, in that same whispered tone, his voice sounding slightly desperate now.

"Why? Why? _Why?_ "

Even if you could speak, you wouldn't know what to say. Why what?

After that, he doesn't show up anymore, and your nights of sleep paralysis are over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was Hollywood Satanism, okay, I know. Don't get me started on that (almost typed 'don't get me satarted)


	10. Chapter 10

One day, Simon tells you about what school was like.

"I had a bit of a reputation." He seems slightly proud of this.

"Oh yeah? As what?"

He widens his eyes slightly and raises a hand, pretending like he's holding a knife and stabbing the air with it. You can't hide your smile. "As the fucking psycho."

Your smile widens. "And was any of it real?"

"Well, word had gotten out that I had been to a psychiatrist before, and that I was taking crazy people meds. Which was true, and rumors started to fly. I got angry at first, but then I realized being left alone wasn't so bad. I didn't want anything to do with the likes of those people anyway. Then I found a dead dog. It was just lying there in the back of the school yard. I wasn't sure what to do, so I picked up a rock and decided to dig a hole to bury it. You can imagine what happened next."

"They saw you with the rock and figured you'd killed it."

"They wouldn't even listen to me when I tried to explain. I got sent to the principal's office and got a one week suspension. Then there were the times I'd do a messy cut, and blood would dribble to my hands. It wasn't on purpose, not the first times. But then I would make a point to dress the wound badly or not at all so they would see blood on my clothes and hands. I was left alone through all of high school. Sure, there were times I wished people would speak to me, but more often than not, I liked it like that. Then I met Sophie, and things started to get a little better."

Your left eye twitches, and you wait, but Simon doesn't continue. "So what did this So--"

"What about you, what was school like?" He doesn't want to talk about her, which it's just as well; you're not sure you want to hear.

"Well, uh, most of the time people didn't mess with me either, but it was more because they wanted to keep their own reputations intact. I wasn't a drug dealer, but the people I'd hang out with were. I had my own shady business, but it was stuff like test results and whatnot that I sold. And there was the fact that, even though I would mess around with both guys and girls, if someone catches two guys making out in high school, it doesn't stay a secret for more than five seconds, and all of a sudden you're a fag. I didn't care. They knew it wasn't safe for them to mess with me because of the company I kept. But I'd still get propositions every time I stepped into a bathroom."

"Did… did you take any?"

You shrug. "A quick buck's a quick buck. They usually either wanted a blowjob, or to blow me to know what it was like. Either way, I'd make them pay extra to make sure I wasn't gonna tell anyone. Then their girlfriends would pay me to know if they were being cheated on. School was an enriching experience for me."

Simon crosses his arms and shakes his head at you. "What a scumbag." You can tell he means it as a joke, even if he doesn't smile.

"Hey, Scumbag's my middle name."

"David Scumbag and Mental Simon. I think we would have set the school on fire if we had gone together."

"Y'know, I don't doubt that. By the way, that time when you asked me if I wasn't a bully, I thought it was because you had been a victim yourself. But I'm glad you weren't."

Simon's shoulders sag a little, and you feel a sudden surge of rage at the image of him looking like that.

"I, uh… well… look, high school was okay. Middle school is the one I don't--" He sighs, and you change the subject.

"Do you like games? I played a lot when I was a kid, but not so much lately. I was kinda into first person shooters a couple years ago."

"...Yeah, I like FPS too. I played a good one before coming here. I think it was about a research facility full of aliens or something."

That night, you feel a stir you hadn't felt in a while. Enjoying the fact that you're sleeping on your own now, you fondle yourself through your pants. Talking about school brought back at least some good memories. When you think about the school jock kneeling in front of you, slowly unzipping your pants with a nervous look on his handsome face, your hand goes in, and you stroke your half-hard dick. He gives you the sloppiest blowjob of your life, but right now you imagine him as good as a pro, licking and sucking just right, and calling your name in a sexy voice.

_David._

Your eyes open, because that's not the jock's voice you've just imagined. You actually have no idea what he sounds like after all these years. Instead, a soft, slightly shy voice takes its place, and you can't help feeling guilty.

He's your friend, isn't he? At least you're pretty sure you're friends. Talking to him isn't like talking to Spike or any other people you've talked before. It feels natural, good. Even when neither of you say anything, sitting there in silence doesn't feel awkward. You just watch him as he watches outside the window.

You try to stop, to think of something else, but you can't even get the jock's face to come back. But you're not gonna beat off to Simon. You refuse. How would you look him in the eye after that?

You get up and take a cold shower, trying not to think about what any of that means.

But when you can't sleep, the only thought that comes to mind is that Lucy was right all along. Simon's the first thing on your mind when you wake up and the last before you fall asleep. You can't stop thinking about him, can you? You count the minutes until 3:00 p.m. every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday.

What will you do? Telling him wouldn't do any good, it would probably just ruin what you have right now.

You'll keep it to yourself. You really shouldn't risk losing the only friend you have for nothing. If there was a chance, maybe you could tell him, but… you're pretty sure that Sophie person is the only one he thinks about.

You almost don't go to see him next Sunday, but you know it wouldn't be fair to him, failing to go without giving any explanation. You're pretty sure he cherishes your meetings as much as you do, even if it's probably not for the exact same reasons.

When he opens the door for you and you don't immediately get in, he knows something's up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I uh… I'm sorry, I think I have something else to do today."

He looks at you for a moment, then turns around. "Fine, just go then. No one's forcing you to be here."

Fuck. You can't do that. You enter and close the door. "No, I'm sorry, that was a lie." A pretty bad one at that. "I had something on my mind and I'm not sure if I could tell you."

"So don't. If you're like that, then it's obviously something you don't wanna share." He's testy, he's always like that on Sundays. And he's right. You should not tell him.

"You see, the thing is, I kinda do. But I don't think it's the right choice. It would just fuck things up." That's right, now it's time to change the subject.

"Well, why did you bring it up then?"

"Because…" You sigh and fall to the chair. "I'm still thinking about it. I mean, I know nothing's gonna come out of me telling you this, but I wouldn't feel right if I didn't tell you."

"David… shit, if you say something like that… do you have any idea what it sounds like? It sounds like you want to confess to me or something."

"What if I do?" Before you can think about how terrible of an idea this is, you tell him. "I didn't know for sure because I've never felt like that before, but just now when you told me to go, I was sure that's what it was. Because I didn't want to make you feel like that. And I certainly didn't want you to think that I was tired of your company or anything like that either."

"David, what--"

"I'm in love with you, Simon. Okay? Is that so bad?" And now the shit's out of the bag, or however that stupid expression goes

He gapes at you in disbelief. "Are you insane? Why in the hell would you think that? What would you want from me when you _know_ I have nothing to give? I thought you were… shit, I don't even know now. A friend? But it's not like I know what having one is like, do I?"

"Simon, I… I'm not bullshitting you. And I don't want anything from you, I promise. And I am. I am your friend, you don't have to doubt that. Fuck, look, I know I shouldn't have told you, it was selfish of me to put something like that on you. It was selfish because even if I knew what would happen, I couldn't help thinking maybe I could be wrong. I'm sorry. I should--"

You get up, but before you can open the door, Simon stops in front of it, blocking your way. "Why?"

You frown, feeling a chill down your spine. "Huh?"

"Why would you-- look me in the eye and tell me what is there to love about me."

You sigh loudly. "Fuck, Simon! You're not this monster you seem to think you are. I… I don't know how to explain, alright? But I like being with you. I like your company, and how stoically you react at my attempts to make you laugh. I like how against all odds you're still here. You make me not want to give up either. I even like the sound of your voice. Even though I know how gay that sounds."

After a long silence, Simon moves away from the door. "I think you should go."

With your heart plummeting, you smile at him. "Yeah, I think so too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know if i should tag this as prostitution alright. I never know these things. Or implied bullying, or dead dog, anything, really.


	11. Chapter 11

You spend the rest of the day in bed, refusing to believe you're suffering your first heartbreak ever at 27. You've been rejected before, just not by someone you actually gave a fuck about.

What were you expecting? Did you really think he'd suddenly go gay for you? Hell, even if he _were_ gay, you're not exactly boyfriend material. No job, live with your parents, an addict. You've been in so many fights, there are parts of the town you can't even show your face anymore. And you've fucked around a lot, too. A lot.

Simon shouldn't be with someone like you anyway. Your hands are too dirty to touch him.

At dinner, you eat exactly one spoonful of rice and mashed potatoes, then go back to your room.

You really could use a pill right now. Just one. Not the whole bottle. Just one would make things… well, bearable.

You know what would be great? If you closed your eyes, opened them again and saw them by the window, just like how they used to show up in your bedroom. You wouldn't question anything, you'd just take one, hide the rest for another moment like this and revel in fantasyland.

You close your eyes, and…

It… didn't work. Fuck. You were sure it was going to work. Oh, whatever. Maybe you don't even deserve the sweet relief of the pills anyway.

So you roll around in bed all night, and you can't help yourself. You imagine what it would have been like if Simon had accepted your confession.

Or you try to imagine, but nothing comes to mind. You don't… you don't feel particularly sexually attracted to him. It's more like… like what? You love him platonically? Yeah, you think that could be it.

Meaning you've made a terrible mistake. You could have just kept quiet and continued hanging out with him. 

Maybe you could try to fix things up, say you were confused, or something less lame maybe. You've been here for 32 days, you still got a long way to go. It would really suck if you couldn't speak to Simon for the remainder of your stay.

For now, for now maybe you should just try to swallow the goddamn tears that are threatening to spill; if your eyes are all puffy and red tomorrow, you're gonna have some explaining to do to your doctor, and you're just not in the mood to come up with any brilliant lies.

***

During group, you try your best not to look in Simon's direction. You still don't know what you should say to him to make him forget the whole thing that wouldn't make you sound like a complete asshole.

But he won't stop looking your way every now and then, and even Lucy has noticed how bothered he is, as she won't stop giving you the stink eye.

"Is there something you'd like to share, Simon?" Jonesy asks, and you can't believe you never noticed how annoying his voice is.

"No, and when I do, I'll say something." You hold back a snort.

Jonesy clears his throat and starts talking to someone else. 

Just as you're about to go back to your room as the session ends, Simon passes right beside you.

"I need to talk to you. Tomorrow." He speaks quietly but you hear every word.

Well, now you're anxious. What's this about? Will he accept you after all? Or is he going to chew you out some more? You don't doubt he could give you a beating either. It's not like you'd fight back.

You sleep until dinner time, when you eat a little bit more than yesterday, though not even half of what's on your plate. Then you go to bed and force yourself to sleep some more. It's not that difficult, your eyes feel so heavy.

Ten years later, it's 5 to 3:00 p.m., and off you are again to go see Simon. When he opens the door for you, you absolutely cannot read his face. He looks… confused, or maybe embarrassed. But a little angry too.

"Sit down, David."

You do so, completely unsure of what to expect.

"Because I don't like misunderstandings, I need to tell you exactly what I think. I don't… I don't feel the same way, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I just told you to leave, like that. I was… I didn't know what to think."

Despite the ice in your stomach, you force yourself to smile at him. "Hey, it's okay. I understand the kind of situation I put you in."

"Well, I shouldn't have anyway. But I have to ask once again. You said you didn't want anything from me. So what is it that you want when you say you're in love with me? Do you want me to feel the same? Do you want sex? Because I don't think--"

"Simon," you interrupt. "All I want is your company. Nothing more."

He still looks confused as hell. "So… you wouldn't mind if things continued the way they were? You don't want anything to change?"

"Well, yeah. I liked the way things were going. Why, do _you_ want anything?"

It's not Simon's looks that made you fall for him, but you can't help finding him adorable when his normally pale face suddenly goes all red.

"No! I… th-then why did you say it if you didn't want anything?"

"I don't know. I had to. It doesn't seem like the type of thing you should keep to yourself. I think… I thought… shit, I'm sorry if it sounds stupid or sappy, but I have zero experience in this. I think I would want to know if someone loved me. I don't regret telling you, you know." Yeah, you don't regret it now that things seems to be going back on track, but back on Sunday you were just about to stab yourself in the eye, weren't you?

Simon looks slightly distraught. "Well, I regret saying it."

Oh, there it is. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Isn't it weird?"

"Not at all." It is a bit weird.

"I… I thought she felt the same. The things she said, the way she was around me, it seemed like it was what she wanted. Although… my timing was a bit off to make it worse. We were arguing. She was angry at me because I wouldn't stop cutting myself. When she said that I needed help and started to leave, I got desperate. I thought she was leaving me for good. She didn't even deign me with an answer. She just left." He exhales, tiredly. "What did she think I was gonna do after she did something like that?"

Damn, this Sophie rubs you the wrong way. The wrongest way possible. "Did she give you mixed signals? Look, I don't want to defend this girl I don't even know or, honestly, care for, but sometimes people do that without even knowing they're doing it. Do you think it was on purpose?" You just don't want to ask him what's really on your mind, in case he has never thought about it like that. _Was she using you?_

"I… I sort of knew what was going on, what she was doing, although I didn't really want to think about it, but now… now it doesn't matter anyway."

So she was. Bitch. "Do you still love her?"

To your relief, he shakes his head. "I don't know if I ever really did. I think maybe it was more of an obsession." Your ears perk up at the magic word. "And I think I still am. A little obsessed. I don't know. Maybe not. I don't know why I'm so bothered by her."

You start to think you do. They obviously have unresolved issues. "Would you let me talk to her next time she comes to visit you?"

Simon eyes you for a moment with one of his eyebrows up. "You don't look like you'd hit a girl, but I'm not sure you should talk to her."

The first and only time you ever hit a girl, you were 13 and she was 16. She had called you a fruitcake and you slapped her. She kicked you in the nuts so hard, you thought they had gone up your stomach. You decide perhaps that's an anecdote you should share with Simon some other time. Or maybe never. "It's your call, but I don't know. Maybe you should talk things over."

"I just... I don't wanna complicate things even more."

"Simon… no, never mind. Like I said, it's your decision."

"I'll... I'll think about it, okay?" he says, in that way people talk when they don't really plan on thinking about it.

"Sure. You do that."

When he tells you it's time for you to go, you wonder if he's spent so much time in front of that window that he can tell the time by the position of the sun. He assures you it's okay for you to keep coming to visit him, and your short period of lovesickness comes to an end, and you go back to eating properly again. All's well that ends well.

This you find a little difficult to swallow.


	12. Chapter 12

Simon is not a subtle individual. He's been sneaking glances at you the past few days, and whenever you look at him, he looks away. In group, when you visit him. It makes you tingle inside, and again you try to dismiss the thought that you're the world's oldest teenager.

You decide to pretend you don't notice it anymore. If he wants to look at you, let him look.

You wonder what he's thinking about, though. Is he wondering about just what kind of fuckeries you've been up to until this point in your life? Or is he still doubting that you were telling the truth when you said you were in love with him?

What if he's wondering what it would be like to be with you? Yeah, you hope it's this one. Just because you don't feel particularly sexually attracted to him, it doesn't mean you don't wish you could be together. You think some cuddles under the covers wouldn't be bad at all.

You want to caress his hair and tell him everything is going to be okay. What everything? You don't know, literally everything. You want to tickle him until he either starts laughing or punches you square in the face.

You want to know more about his injury. Can he really never walk again? Why do the doctor insists he shouldn't lose hope then? And can't they give him something better for the pain? It doesn't escape your attention the way his face occasionally contorts, and he touches his legs.

Maybe you could talk to the red nurse, since she knows you've been going to see him, and seems particularly interested in what you two have been up to. 

You don't tell her everything; you don't know if Simon would appreciate having people knowing he was the object of another man's affections.

So you just tell her you've become good friends, and while she doesn't seem very convinced that's the whole truth, she doesn't pry.

You ask about his injury, and her playful tone dies down.

"I can't tell you anything. Simon's doctor is very private, and I've already insisted that he'd stop giving Simon false hope, but he just shakes his head at me. I don't know what that means. Maybe he's afraid Simon will fall in complete despair. The thing is, I know he won't. Simon's a fighter, but he's thrown the towel on this match a long time ago."

"How about his pain? Can't he at least get anything stronger for it?"

"No, Simon's already on morphine. His body doesn't accept painkillers well, and his dosage has to be seriously controlled, otherwise it could become a problem."

Fuck. You don't want him to become an addict like you.

"We've been taking care of Simon to the best of our capabilities, you shouldn't worry so much about him. And what about you, David? Are things looking up for you?"

You don't want to stop talking about Simon, but you don't think she has any other information she could give you. "Uh, yeah actually. I don't need those pills anymore." Even though you totally would have taken one that night after Simon's rejection. And you still have all your other issues to work on.

"Well, that's great news. I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks."

She looks like she still has more to say, but when she keeps quiet, you know you're not the only one keeping secrets.

***

On your next session with doctor Kellogs, he asks you why you don't own a cell phone. What, is it really so absurd?

Apparently.

You're embarrassed to admit it, because you know it's ridiculous, but it doesn't mean you don't really believe it.

"Look, I think there's something shady about them, alright. Who's to say the pigs can't track us down with them. Better have one less worry, I say. I don't trust them, and I don't need them anyway. No one to call, and those games people play on them are shit."

It sounds really stupid when you say it out loud, but you don't back out from it.

The doctor surprises you by telling you he doesn't have one either, but he's one of those weirdos who think cell phones give you cancer. He also doesn't go near microwave ovens.

You wonder if it's possible to change doctors.

***

Simon tells you he had a dream where the two of you were walking by the sea shore, and it catches you so suddenly you can't hide your reaction. Your breath stutters, and you really want to hold him tight, but after everything that's happened recently, it might not be exactly the best of ideas. So you just try to comfort him with words.

"I wish we could do that someday."

He looks like he regrets dampening the mood, and changes the subject, like he does whenever he's uncomfortable. "Tell me more stories, one of those weird adventures of yours."

You tell Simon all kinds of stories you can remember, in the hopes he'll at least crack a smile, but despite his focussed eyes on you, he never does. He tells you about the time he spooked a couple of wannabe bullies, literally by going up to them and saying 'boo', and you double over guffawing in the low tone you've grown accustomed to by now.

His eyes look brighter than ever, though, so you figure at least you're entertaining him. He hasn't stopped looking at you for a moment since you came in today, and you hope this is a good thing.

He seems somewhat distracted, even though he comments on your stories, not believing you for a second about the Glasgow siren. Well, that one was probably too far fetched anyway.

Simon's eyes dart all over your face, and suddenly, you're self-conscious about all those battle scars.

Should you tell him about them? About the big one under your right eye?

Nah, Simon seems amused, you're not gonna bring the mood down again.

You repeat the siren story on group the next day, and while Simon just rolls his eyes, everyone else is shocked by it, even Jonesy, who by this point has given up trying to encourage you to share personal stories, instead of what he calls 'fabrications'. No one seems to mind anyway.

Simon hasn't stopped staring.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm posting this Dec/ 25th, happy fluffmas!

Faster than you expected, you finish rewatching St. Mercy's scarce selection of good movies, so you can either watch them once again, or you can go for the chick flicks.

You look at a few covers. Most of them has a couple looking like they're the happiest fuckers on Earth. You sigh and decide to go for one that has king Leonidas in it because at least you'll get some eye candy. Two hours and a whole box of tissues later, you're being comforted by an amused but sympathetic nurse.

"What the fuck, Leanne? What are they giving me here that make my cry like a little bitch? I wasn't like this, you know."

"Are you sure it wasn't just the movie?"

"The only reason to cry this movie gave me was his pitiful Irish accent." You don't pout at her. You do not. "Why aren't you crying? Did someone replace your heart with a slab of concrete or something?"

"No, David. I just watched it hundreds of times already." She reaches for the wet tissues you're holding, and you hand them to her. "Now why don't you go rest a bit? You don't want to be worked up for your 3:00 pm. appointment, do you?"

You pause for a moment, watching the red nurse. Her face doesn't reveal anything, but she knows so much more than she lets on. "I… guess I don't. Thanks." You get up to leave, still watching her, but she really doesn't give away anything.

When you come to Simon's room that afternoon, you guess you finally understand the nurse's cryptical eyes.

"Hey Si? Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure. I have a nickname now?"

"Yeah. How old are you?"

"I'm 21. Why? How old did you think I was?"

"I don't know… I never really thought about it. I guess probably somewhere along the lines of 27 like me. But then I get here, and you've suddenly shaved, and now you look like a teenager. So, you know. Just wondering."

"Is this a problem?"

"No, of course not." It might be a big problem, given your sudden desire to kiss him. Oh, but you think he meant his age, not his lack of facial hair.

It's been a while since you had this feeling that you knew him, but now it comes back at full force. And yet, you still don't remember.

Something else comes to mind just then.

Did he by any chance shave for you? Because of that comment you made about beards?

Nah, that couldn't be it. He's made it clear he's not interested in you like that. 

Right?

"Any particular reason for the change?"

Before he turns completely to the window, you catch a glimpse of color creeping up to his face. You wish you could see.

"Jeanette wanted to, so I let her. Whenever I want to shave, I have to ask them to do it for me, so I almost never ask. I don't like to bother, and it's weird someone else doing it."

"Really? Can't you use an electric shaver?"

"They don't trust me with those either."

You don't know what to say to that. "Well, you look really good." He looks beautiful, actually, but you think saying that might be a little too forward. Just a tad.

Almost a full minute passes before he replies. "Thanks."

Should you? 

"Simon… if you ever want-- if you ever want anything from me, you just have to ask."

He turns to face you again, and he looks more uncomfortable than ever. "What do you mean?"

Since because of all the staring and blushing you decided to assume the best, you want to tease him a little, but then you remember Sophie, and the way she probably messed with his head, and realize that's not such a good idea. You still use a teasing tone though, in case you assumed wrong and have to pretend you're joking. "I mean, if you want me to kiss you, you just have to say so."

Just like that, you're granted the wish you had not two minutes ago. His face reddens, but he doesn't turn away this time. "Would you?"

With your heart galloping, you take two steps into the room, grab the chair and sit right beside him. "Yeah."

You brush your lips against his, not wanting to push in case he changes his mind, and he breathes into it. It's a gasp, and you almost do the same when you remember you're his first kiss.

"More?" You ask without moving an inch, and when he nods, you continue, closing your lips over his and kissing him softly. You slowly open your mouth, causing him to do the same, and your tongue teases his, and when he moves it, you twirl yours around it a couple of times, until he starts doing the same.

One of your hands move to the side of his neck, while the other cradles the back of his head, and your fingers lazily caress his hair. He gasps again and grabs the collar of your sweatshirt with both hands, and for a moment, you think he's going to push you away. But he doesn't. Maybe he just needed something to do with his own hands.

The position you're in makes it difficult to change angles, and you have to remember you can't just climb onto his lap. But soon your neck starts to hurt, and you have to stop. You still give him 3 quick ones before you move away, and you watch him, waiting for him to open his eyes.

You weren't lying when you said you wanted nothing more than his company, but seeing him like this throws that notion through the window, and you hope he'll at least let you kiss him like that more times.

When he opens his eyes and stares at you, his shyness has all but vanished. His eyes are bright and confident when he speaks. "You know, I thought you said I wasn't your type."

"I lie 50 times a day. Doctor's orders. So, how was it?"

He rolls his eyes and exhales, slightly amused. "Are you fishing for compliments?"

"No, I just wanna know if you're interested in doing it again."

"Jeez." At first, you can't believe what you're seeing. The left corner of his mouth is turned up, and you can see his teeth. He's smiling. You've finally got him to smile. "Yes, alright? It was fun." Just as quickly as it had showed up, the smile vanishes. "But David, is this really okay? I'm not… I mean, I don't know if I… uh…"

"Hey, no worries. This is already more than I was hoping for, okay? So, er… you want another then?"

Simon opens his mouth in surprise. "You don't have to ask that, idiot! Just--" You don't let him finish, as you lean over and kiss him again, slightly harder this time. He doesn't gasp, but he grabs your collar again. You move as close as you can without actually getting up from your chair.

This time after you're done, he opens his eyes immediately, raising one of his eyebrows. "Don't hurt your neck, David."

Did… did he just sass you? You cross your arms and glare at him. "Do you have a better idea? Because I accept suggestions."

"I…" When he visibly gets too flustered, you lean over and kiss him yet again. You spend the better part of the hour kissing, over and over, not giving a damn about the pain on your neck. 

When you get up to leave, Simon surprises you yet again by pulling you down and biting your lower lip. You make a pleased sound, but he quickly lets go of you. "I like that."

He raises his eyebrows, as you open the door. "Good. I'll do more like it, then."

"Can't wait." You wave at him, and go back to your room. This night it isn't a threatening hooded figure that shows up in your dreams, but a surprisingly beautiful boy with pink lips and bright brown eyes. You're not even surprised when you wake up with a boner.


	14. Chapter 14

Next Thursday can't come sooner, and when it finally does, and you knock on Simon's door, he doesn't open it, instead telling you to come in.

Oh. He did have a better idea, after all. He didn't come to open the door for you because he's not in his wheelchair. He's sitting on his bed.

You enter and close the door quickly and sit to the left of him on the bed, suddenly feeling butterflies in your stomach.

"So, what are you pl--"

Simon doesn't let you finish the question, and by the time your head hits the pillow, you don't even remember what it was anymore.

Simon kisses you with fervor, and you match his moves with a passion of your own. When your hands find his hair, you notice his are on your waist, and he's applying such force that it makes you think he's afraid you'll up and leave, which you wouldn't do even if the building was on fire.

You stop the kiss, but your lips continue on him, going down his chin and over his neck. You suck his skin between your teeth, but only for a moment.

"I guess it wouldn't be a good idea to leave a mark, huh?"

He sighs. "Definitely not. After that stunt with the wheelchair spoke, they've been doing check ups all the time to make sure I haven't been cutting myself again. Although it'd be pretty stupid to make a cut on my neck if I didn't want to kill myself."

"Fuck." You kiss the fading mark before it completely vanishes, then you go back up and suck his tongue into your mouth. The breathy moan he lets out ignites such an arousal in you that your hips buck in the empty air, and you really wish he could be on top of you right now.

You lower one of your hands from his hair to adjust yourself, and then his hand is on top of yours.

Oh. Okay. But does he really want to do this?

"Si… you don't have to--"

"No? You don't want me to?"

"Sure I want, but--"

"Then shut up." This time he's the one sucking your tongue into his mouth, and his hand dips into your pants.

You had no idea he was going to be this dominating, which is pretty interesting. You feel like your moans are reverberating through the whole hospital after he starts to stroke.

His hand moves confidently on you, and you feel your orgasm approaching way too quickly for your likes.

But just as you're about to come, like a cruel joke his hand stops. His kiss stops too, and you open your eyes to see what's going on, only to find him gaping at you.

Then his eyes fall onto his own lap.

"What happened, Simon?"

"I… I t-thought… uh…"

"Is everything okay?"

He raises his eyebrows and looks back at you. "I guess you could say that." His face is an incredible shade of red, as he smiles. "I, er, I thought it didn't…" He clears his throat. "...uh, w-work. Anymore. It hadn't, after that day."

Then what he's saying finally enters your thick skull, and you smile back at him as you sit up. "Can I…?"

He seems to think on it for a moment, then he nods. You reach into his pants, taking him in your hand. He's not rock hard like you, but he's definitely not limp either. Instead of kissing him again, you suck on his earlobe and stick your tongue in his ear. The reaction is immediate as he stirs on your hand, so you continue.

You had been under the same impression than him, even though you knew he didn't suffer much spinal damage, the way he acted seemed to imply that. His hand goes back into your pants and you leave your wonderments for later, and you stroke him faster as he fully hardens.

Now you go back to kissing him, and you both moan quietly into each other's mouths. When Simon stops the kiss and locks his teeth on your chin, you come with a low groan, then wipe his messy hand on your sweatshirt, making sure none of it got on his bed.

Then you double your efforts on him, your hand stroking him faster as you softly suck on his neck.

"David, ah…"

Simon's come dribbles on your fingers, and you wipe your hand over the mess already present on your sweatshirt. You're very glad to be responsible for your own laundry.

You kiss his cheek lovingly as his breathing evens out. "Did you--"

The door suddenly opens, and the red nurse, Leanne, barges in with a worried look on her face. She coos at you two for a moment, then starts dragging you by the arm.

"There's no time to go back right now, David. You're gonna have to go in the closet. Hi, Simon." She pushes you towards Simon's closet.

"What's going on?" His voice is alarmed, and you still have time to see him checking himself to make sure he's decent, and despite the sudden crazy situation, you smile, and the nurse closes the closet door.

"Jonesy is on his way."

"What? Why? He never comes at this hour!"

"He's-- oh, you naughty boys!" You hear a window being open, and the cold air that rushes into the room even reaches you. "You had a headache, Simon, and you called me for some medicine."

Just as soon as she finishes speaking, you hear the door opening again.

"Hello, Simon. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah… why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, I was on my way out, and I looked up and didn't see you by the window where you usually are, so I got worried. You're on your bed, even."

"I had a headache and called Leanne for some medicine." His voice is so mechanical you have to contain your laughter. Simon obviously doesn't know how to lie.

"Is that right?"

"Yes, I checked and it was just because of the brightness. It is a very bright day today, so I put him to bed so he could rest a bit."

The room remains in silence for a long moment, before you hear Jonesy speaking again. "That's good, Simon. I'm glad it was nothing serious." Another nervous silence, and then he continues. "Well, I'll be on my way, then. You be good, Simon. And refrain from activities that might be too… strenuous."

The door opens and closes again, and after a few seconds, you hear Simon grunting. "Fuck that creep."

You assume it's safe to leave, and as you peek out from the closet, you see Leanne doing the same at the door, then she runs to the window.

"There he goes. By the way, your hour's almost up, loverboy." You look at her, and she has a raised eyebrow and a slightly maniacal grin.

"Aw, I love it when you make me sound like a cheap whore." Are all of the nurses in on it? Your secret affair? What does Simon think of that? "Thanks, though."

"I was supposed to get here a bit sooner, but Sissy and Jeanette got in the way because they wanted to come too, and I had to explain it would look suspicious if we were all here." She crosses her arms and mutters under her breath: "Must've missed quite a show, too." Well, that clears out one of the questions.

When she shows no signs of wanting to leave, you get a little impatient. "How many minutes did you say we still have?"

"Oh, sorry! Seven minutes. I'll be going then. Simon, behave."

Simon looks like he's lost in his thoughts as he nods at her.

When the door finally closes, you sit beside him again. "What's up?"

"Hmm? Oh, I was wondering. If there wasn't anything I could do to get Jonesy to back off."

"Did you talk about him with someone else? Your doctor?"

"Yeah, of course I did, but… doctor Purnell thinks I'm overreacting."

You decide to pry once again. "What about, Si? What does Jonesy want with you?"

"Oh, you're not gonna believe me either."

"Try me. Nothing's more unbelievable than all the shit that brought me here."

He doesn't say anything else, and you'll probably have to leave this for the next time. When you're about to tell him that, he opens his mouth.

"I think… I think he wants to turn me into his pet."


	15. Chapter 15

15.

You lie in bed thinking about Simon's words.

Pet? That makes you want to scratch at your brain, and even if you're not sure of what to make of it, it also makes you want to sink a knife in Jonesy's throat.

You had to go before Simon could elaborate on his ideas, and you hate that you had to leave him with the empty promise that you're not gonna let anything bad happen to him. What power do you have to protect him? You sure will try your damn hardest, but if someone wants you out of the picture, you're pretty sure they're not gonna have a problem with it.

What could you do? You don't even know the entire story yet, and you hope Simon can finish explaining it to you next time. For now, you make an effort to put your homicidal thoughts away and sleep.

Next time you see Simon, he tells you to come in, but he's by the window again. He gives you an apologetic look. "I should be here so he'll see me when he leaves. Or he might come up here again."

You close your fists in anger, because all of a sudden, this sounds suspiciously like training to you, and you start to doubt Simon's fears less and less. "How come he didn't do it before? We weren't near the window that Tuesday."

"Some days he stays until late, but when he doesn't, I always see him leaving, and he always looks up at my window."

"Yeah? Well, guess what. If he leaves today, he'll definitely see you by the window." You reach him in a second, and before he can say anything, you're kneeling right in front of him. You feel like you're about to ask him to marry you instead of give him a blowjob. But the shocked look on his face makes you pause before you can even touch him. "Hey, it's okay if you don't want to. I just thought it'd serve him well, even if he'll never know about it." Also, you really want to suck his dick.

He stares at you with his lips slightly parted, and you almost get up and kiss him, but then he hides his face with one hand, his tiny smile showing up between his fingers. "You're crazy, David."

"Then it's a good thing they have doctors for that here. Simon, tell me if this is okay."

His smile lingers as he looks at you for a moment. "Like hell I'm saying no to something like that."

Feeling slightly like a pervert, you stick your hand in his pants. He's completely soft this time, but you know last time wasn't a fluke, and you're going to make him come even harder now.

You watch his face as you stroke him. His lips are parted, and he keeps changing his gaze from your face to the hand you have on him.

"I don't think I've ever told you how beautiful you are before, have I?"

The way he blushes even harder proves to you that he doesn't know how to respond to compliments, but he does start to harden as he continues watching you. You bend your head and lick at the tip. He sighs and tips his head back. You close your lips around him and suck. He twitches when you lick the underside, so you do it over and over. You pull him inside your mouth, opening your throat when he hits it.

He makes the cutest sounds you've ever heard someone making while getting head. Then again, you don't think you've ever really paid attention before.

You're getting hard too, but you decide to keep it in your pants and focus on Simon. You hollow your cheeks and suck hard, making every movement of your tongue count. He gets louder, but you don't want to stop and tell him to keep it down. If someone walks in on you, you'll just give them a show and that's it. Besides, after last time, you're pretty sure the nurses are watching the door for you anyway.

Feeling a thrill at the possibility of having voyeurs watching you, you moan, and Simon likes your throat's vibrations on him.

"Da-ah…" He can't even say your name, which makes you incredibly proud of yourself. His come is bitter as it touches your tongue, and you swallow all of it. It's nothing compared to those literal bitter pills you so loved and hated.

You kiss the tip of his softening dick before you tuck him back in his pants. A drop of sweat runs down his face as he watches you do that with a shy smile. He's been smiling quite frequently ever since you started getting physical, so you thank yourself for that too. "I think I could go for a smoke right about now. Would you get them for me? They're in the closet."

"Sure." You get up, ignoring the pinpricks from kneeling down for too long. You hadn't noticed while you were in there, but he has quite a few things in his closet. Well, mostly notebooks, books and black metal cds, although you don't see any devices he could use to listen to them.

You grab his barely touched cigarette pack, ashtray and lighter, and bring them to him.

"Thanks. There's the bastard." He's biting on his nails as he looks outside. You see Jonesy down there and take a step back just as he's about to turn his head.

"Simon… what the fuck is that reprobate doing to you? Do you think you could talk about it?"

He takes a long drag from the cigarette and waits a few seconds before slowly exhaling. "He tries to control everything I do. What time I eat, what books I can read. And the things he says when it's just the two of us… it's creepy, David. He says he wishes he could take me to his house so he could take proper care of me. That as long as I behaved, I would want for nothing. And he takes my things away if I talk back at him."

"Jesus Christ! How come no one does anything about this?"

"No one believes me, and I don't have any proof. The nurses are on my side, but they can't do anything against him, trust me. When he took my cd player and I told my doctor about it, he opened the closet, and it was there. And when we were alone again, he broke it in front of me, saying he hated doing that, but it was for my own good. And he didn't want to have to do it again. I hated to play by this asshole's rules, but if he took away all my shit, what the hell would I do all day?"

You feel like you just swallowed a bag full of writhing snakes as you pause and go back to what Simon just told you. "He snuck into your room when no one was looking to put it back."

Simon lets out a deep breath as he exhales the smoke. "Like I said, creepy. He took one of my notebooks too, because I had written about him. And then there was Norma." He shakes his head. "Shit. Forget I said that."

"Why? Who was Norma?"

"I'm sorry, David. I don't wanna talk about it. Another time, maybe."

You nod in agreement, as you don't want to push Simon into talking about things that'll make him uncomfortable. Or more so than he already is. But he keeps talking.

"At first, he actually used to pet my head, just like you do with a dog. He even called me a fucking good boy once. Then one day I punched him and told him to never touch me again. That was the first time he took my things, even my toothbrush. Even my goddamn pillow. But he returned everything before I could tell anyone, apologized and admitted he was the one in the wrong. But he didn't put his dirty hands on me again, except maybe once or twice whenever he wanted to coerce me into thinking like he wanted me to, but at least these times I think it was without thinking because he would let go of me the moment I looked at him."

You can hardly believe what you're hearing, not because you don't trust Simon, you don't think he'd lie to you even if he wanted to. But it's an absurd, who the fuck does this guy think he is?

"I'm gonna kill that fucking asshole." The moment you say this, you don't doubt yourself.

"Yeah, I wish I could. There'd be no guilty feelings from me this time."

You don't know what to do. You can see why someone from the outside would think Simon was reading too much into it, but you witnessed it first hand. The edge in the creep's voice that day. If you knew where to look for, you could hear it, how he sounded like he was talking to a dog.

"I will do something about it. Trust me on this, Si. I don't know what yet, but I will."

"Right." He obviously doesn't believe you, and why should he? You know there's nothing you can do, and so does he. You could break Jonesy's face, and arms and legs for that matter, but then he'd know Simon told you, and it would make everything worse. And they'd probably put you in jail, meaning you couldn't be there for Simon anymore. There had to be something else.

You sigh in defeat, decided to focus on it later when you're alone. "So, are you gonna give me a drag or what?"

"I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't, but this seems like a good time as any to start."

Simon had extended the cigarette pack to you, but he pulls it back as you say this, looking like he's about to drop an M-80 down a toilet. "Oh, then I think I have a better idea. Come closer."

You do, and he inhales, then leans towards you. You open your mouth and he blows the smoke inside. "Inhale it." You almost tell him _yes, sir_.

__You never thought cigarette smoke could taste sexy. Simon watches you expectantly as you release it. "Hmm. I don't know if I like it. Could you do it again so I can be sure?"_ _

__He doesn't seem to realize you're joking, and you almost feel bad, but then you ask exactly the same thing again, and he rolls his eyes and punches you in the arm._ _

__"I'm sorry. It was sexy as hell, and I just wanted you to keep doing it."_ _

__"So why didn't you say so?" He doesn't sound irritated, it's more like genuine confusion._ _

__"I don't know. To make things more fun, I guess. You don't… Si… you didn't have much fun, did you? Before coming here, I mean."_ _

__Simon shrugs. "I wasn't old enough to go anywhere interesting. I only went to a black metal festival once because it started in the afternoon, so they weren't carding."_ _

__"You could have gotten a fake ID."_ _

__"I have no idea where to get something like that."_ _

__"You know, you should've looked around your school for someone like me. I would've hooked you up with all kinds of shit."_ _

__He smiles. "You would have been a terrible influence on me. Too bad I didn't meet you sooner." He takes one last drag of the cigarette, and you kiss him, stealing the smoke for you._ _

__But instead of pushing you and calling you names like you thought he would, he holds you in place as his tongue twirls around yours, and his hands lock behind your head. Then he sucks your breath away before finally releasing you. You pant as you watch him release the smoke._ _

__"Damn…" You gawk at him because that's literally the hottest thing someone's ever done to you. Where the hell did he learn that trick if he had never kissed anyone before? He crushes the cigarette in the ashtray with such a smug look on his face that makes you want to hold him tight and tell him how much you love him. You don't, though, because you don't want to scare him away. He's accepted your feelings, and even returns your affections, but he didn't say anything about it other than it being for fun._ _

__And more than anyone, Simon deserves to have fun. You would never ask him more than he could give. If he wants to have fun, you couldn't be happier to be the one providing it._ _


	16. Chapter 16

You had asked Leanne to sort out the movies that weren't a cry fest like that last one for you. As you finish one of them, you look at her utter disbelief at her betrayal, even if it's just a single tear that is threatening to escape.

"Oh, David. It was a funny movie!"

"But they all died in the end!"

"Yes, but it's the journey that counts, isn't it? It's supposed to be uplifting. They struggled and they succeeded. It's a message of hope."

"Well, hopefully I'll never watch another movie you choose. I think I'm gonna ask…" You struggle to remember the name of the Barbie doll nurse. "Jean? She seems chipper." You get up and start walking back to your room, and Leanne follows you.

"If you're into surreal silent films from the 1930s, be my guest. You… you look like this, but you really are sensible, aren't you David? But never mind that now. Are you and Simon dating?"

You stare at the nurse, the glint in her eyes, unsure of what to say. "Lee… did he say something about it?" And what does she mean by 'look like this'?

She smiles innocently. "I'm not gonna tell you, sweetie. This is something you have to talk between yourselves." She opens the door for you and you sit on your bed.

"What? Then why did you--" She interrupts you, putting something in your pocket.

"Why don't you have a nice pillow talk about it, hm?"

Before you can say anything else, she's out the door, and you put a hand in your pocket to make sure it is what you think it is.

Yes, it is.

***

Simon's sitting on his bed, and before you ask, he tells you why.

"Jonesy stopped by a while ago, and I told him my head hurt again, and that I was going to lie down."

You smile widely as you approach him. "Well, that sure makes things easier." You take his face in your hands. "Since it's like this, would you let me put your legs on the bed too?"

"Why?" The weary look he gives you breaks your heart a little, and you don't think he'll ever stop being suspicious of everyone around him.

You bend over so you can whisper in his ear. "Because I was kinda hoping you would fuck me today, and with you lying down, it would probably be more comfortable."

You feel his skin heating up beneath your fingertips, and since he doesn't say anything, that's the only hint you have that he understood you.

"Si?" You run a hand through his hair. "It's fine if you don't want to, y'know. You know I'm happy to just sit here with you."

That seems to break him out of his trance. "Fuck that! Do… do it. Just… grab them under my knees."

You try not to let it show on your face just how glad you are that he said that, but you're sure he can tell anyway.

You take off your sweatshirt and drop it beside his bed. Then you grab his legs just below his knees like he asked, and he helps by moving up on the bed.

"Can I take them off?"

"No." He speaks fast and loud enough that it startles you, but then he quickly continues. "Just my shirt. Please, David."

"Sure. Yeah, of course. No problem." He starts to take it off by himself and you help him, dropping it by yours on the floor.

You think about last time, when you blew him by the window. You remember seeing tips of pink scars on his thighs when you got his dick out, but given the situation, they barely registered.

But you're going to have to lower his pants at least a little or this will be kind of impossible. You straighten up and go to the window. "What am I thinking? Forgot to set the mood." You close the blinds until the room is almost completely dark, but you can still make out his form on the bed.

You can also see the relief on his face when you're by his side again. You climb over him, carefully situating yourself around his waist, and kiss him, but in a few seconds, he turns your soft kisses into frantic and fervent snogging. You're being debauched by a virgin that you taught how to kiss not ten days ago, so you decide to step up your game.

You move down, leaving open-mouthed kisses on his neck, then you move to one of his nipples, licking it first, then sucking it into your mouth. Hard. He hisses, and in the next second he's pulling your hair. But not to get you off him, if the way he immediately pushes you back to his chest right afterwards is any indication. After a while, you do the same to the other one, and then continue your journey down.

Your hands retrace the course made by your mouth, and while you dip your tongue in his navel, you get his pants down just a little. Then you remember you still have yours on and curse yourself for forgetting to take them off, because you don't want to get up now. So you clumsily balance yourself on your knees and one hand, while you rip them off with the other. 

After you're finally done, you feel up his legs as lightly as you can so you can scooch down between them and take him into your mouth. When he's almost ready to go, you stop for a moment to suck on a couple of fingers, then bring them between your legs to get yourself ready as well. 'It's been a while' doesn't even begin to describe how long it is since you last had sex, especially being the catcher. Last time you remember bottoming was with that guy who swore he was from the Verve. Or was it Oasis? He was obviously lying either way, but he had a prince Albert, and you had always wanted to know what that felt like. This was five years ago.

So it's no wonder that it stings quite a bit when you rush to get ready quickly and stick the two fingers in at once. You get Simon's dick in your mouth again to distract yourself, and his sexy moaning helps too.

When you decide you're both ready, you reach for your pants that for some miracle are still dangling on the edge of the bed and take out Leanne's present. You easily roll the condom on Simon, then get in position, taking him in your hand. But before you can take him in, he pulls you by the arm, and his kiss is almost desperate. You indulge in it for a few moments, but you really can't wait anymore to have him inside. You guide him in, slowly lowering your hips and taking him inch by inch

You can't help a groan of discomfort, even if you know it'll soon get better, so you go slow for both your sakes. Your eyes have grown used to the dark room, enough that you can see Simon biting his lip. You bend over to leave a quick kiss on his neck, and one of his hands graze your face. You grab it and kiss his palm, and he pulls you back down for another kiss, a much slower one this time. He doesn't let go of your face afterwards, and his eyes look concerned.

"Does it hurt?"

"Just a little. Don't worry about it." The pain has already started to recede, so you adjust your knees in a way that makes it easy for you to move. You raise your hips and go down again a few times, experimenting. It feels good, but you're sure that if you move just a little, Simon will be able to reach that place inside that'll make it feel great. You try, but you can't for the life of you find it, but then something happens.

Simon raises his hips from the bed and thrusts against you, finding your prostate by sheer luck.

"Holy fuck!" 

"What? What is it?" Fuck, he sounds worried.

"Can you do it like that again? It felt really good."

He puts his hands on your knees and caresses your thighs a couple of times before moving them up to your chest. "I… I will do my best, David. I swear."

"Hey, no. Don't do it if it's gonna-- ah, shit." He does it a few more times, but even if he can move his hips, it's still probably too tiring for him. But by the time he has to stop, you can get the right angle by yourself.

You start to move faster, reminding yourself you don't exactly have much time, and when you start stroking yourself, Simon touches your hand and replaces it with his. He strokes fast, probably with the same thought in his mind, but you still want to see him come before you do, so you stubbornly hold off.

"David… I'm gonna…"

"Yeah, do it. I'm almost there too."

He thrusts his hips up one last time and holds them here for a moment. His mouth opens, but no sound comes of it, and as you start to get lost on his expression, you come too. He opens his eyes when he feels it hitting his chest, runs a finger through the mess and brings it to his mouth. You've literally just came, but damn if that doesn't make you twitch a little. He cringes and lets out a short chuckle.

"Shit, this is bitter."

You laugh too. "No shit, you idiot." Then you get off him, take the condom off and pull his pants back up. "Do you have tissues?"

"Sorry. Just get toilet paper."

You wince as your feet hit the ground, but it's worth it the moment you come back from the bathroom with a wad of toilet paper and Simon has an absolutely lustful expression.

You smile as you wipe his chest. "Like what you see?"

"Actually, yeah. You look really good. I don't… I don't say things like that because I'm really not used to it. But you do. Uh, look good."

You kiss his cheek before you go throw the paper out. "Thanks, Simon. I know." He snorts, and you realize you probably sounded like you were saying you know you're hot. Well, you do, but that's not what you meant. "Duh, I mean, I know that you're not used to it."

"Hey, open the blinds and check the time."

"The... time?"

"Yeah, to the left. There's a clock tower. I think it's a church or something."

You open the blinds, and the brightness hurts your eyes momentarily, but soon you can see the clock tower you had never noticed before in the distance. You look back at him because you know you'll catch him checking your ass. "We still have like twenty minutes."

His eyes (that really were glued to your posterior) widen, and he sits up. "Shit! Then put your clothes back on. That thing's 15 minutes late."

"Really?" Time flies when you're having damn good sex. You put your clothes back on as quickly as you can, then open the window to let the cold air in.

"Damn it, it's freezing." Simon scurries under the cover, but it's just a thin quilt.

You hand him his shirt, then grab a blanket from his closet. "Sorry. But it's best to air the room in case you get any more visitors."

"Yeah, I know." You fix the blanket over him, then sit beside the bed. 

"Besides, your body's still too hot, in a few minutes you'll feel better."

"David… I… it was incredible. I had never felt like that before. Thank you."

You kiss his sweaty forehead, then his lips. "Thank you, too." You think about Leanne's suggestion but maybe you shouldn't talk about it. If you fuck this up now…

If you fuck this up now… 

You kiss Simon again to drive bad thoughts away.


	17. Chapter 17

Next day in group, not only is Simon late, he doesn't look at anyone when he arrives, not even you.

Fuck. You shouldn't have pushed him to have sex with you so soon. He regrets it now and probably won't even talk to you anymore.

But then he looks at you and raises his eyebrows in a silent greeting. It's not that. Then what is it? Did someone do something to him? Jonesy? You look at him, but the counselor's also looking at Simon with concern in his eyes. It doesn't prove he isn't guilty of whatever's afflicting Simon, but you decide to wait until the end of the session and try to quickly talk to him.

Jonesy beats you to it though, as he pushes Simon to a corner of the room and stops in front of him. You grab a book from the shelf and silently approach them. He's talking softly, and you can only make out a few words.

"...know it's been… ...you should… ...Purnell right after… Please, Simon."

Simon notices you watching them and speaks clearer. "I know. I will talk to doctor Purnell, but I'm fine." You don't understand how he can be so civil with Jonesy after everything he's told you, but you suppose he doesn't have other choice. Simon then looks at Lucy, then back at you before leaving. You go to her, and she reaches into her cleavage for a piece of paper.

" _'Meh, meh, meh, he's not my type'_ ", she mocks you in a shrill tone. "Told you you didn't fool me."

"Yeah, yeah. You were right all along, what do you want, an invitation to the wedding?" You reach for the paper, wondering just when did Simon have time to write that and hand it to her, but she pulls her hand back before you can take it.

"I won't have to go after you with an axe, will I?"

You sigh and lean over to whisper in her ear. "I'm balls to the wall in love with him, and I'd douse myself in gasoline and light up a match before I would even think of hurting him." You hope this is what she wants to hear. Well, it is the truth.

"I'm leaving today. And I know I don't have to ask, but I will. Please take care of him, David."

As you nod your head, she hands you the paper and pats you on the shoulder with a smile, before leaving. You wave goodbye and leave too, so you can read it in private. When you close the door to your room, you immediately unfold the paper.

_I'm fine, don't worry about it. I'll tell you tomorrow._

Well, it doesn't exactly put you at ease, but you don't think he's going to do anything stupid. Before you go to bed, Leanne visits you, wanting to know if you made good use of her present, but you tell her a gentleman doesn't fuck and tell.

"Well, then I guess Simon's not much of a gentleman, since he told me it was amazing." She winks at you.

He did? "He did?" You chuckle. "Goddamnit, Simon. Yeah, he was right. Could I please have more condoms, mom?"

"Aw, sweetie. Check his bedside table on your next visit." She blows you a kiss and leaves you smiling alone like a fool.

***

After Simon opens the door for you, you excuse yourself and get a look in his bedside table. Not only did Leanne fill it with condoms, she also added several packs of lube too. Bless her heart.

"Oh, so you talked to Leanne."

"Yeah. I didn't know we were telling people." You tease him, but kiss his cheek before he thinks you're mad.

"Well, didn't you ask her for the first one? The pack had a lipstick kiss mark on it, and I know she's the only one who uses that red a lipstick."

"Actually she just gave it to me out of nowhere. But it doesn't matter. I want to know what happened to you. Why you were so down yesterday. You still are." You sit on the bed and he comes closer.

"It's just… this week makes a year… since I killed them. And two years since the accident for that matter. I couldn't help it. I couldn't help thinking about it. About their families, about everything they must have gone through, what they still might be going through. It makes me feel terrible."

"Simon… it wasn't on purpose, you said so yourself. There's nothing you can do about it. Just… I mean… fuck, I don't know what to tell you. People move on, right? When their loved ones die? It must be awful in the beginning, but people usually move on."

"I suppose. I don't know how it is either."

"Try to forgive yourself, Simon. I think that's all you can do. Sorry, I know this doesn't help you, and I wish I knew how to, but what the hell do I know."

"No, actually that's pretty similar to what doctor Purnell told me. And I do try, but it isn't easy."

"Si…" Yeah, you're going to tell him your little secret now. He has to know he's not alone in feeling those kinds of things. "Remember when I told you about all the shit that made me decide to come here? I know I said I didn't remember much, but I do, enough to know that I did something really bad."

You start by telling him about that day, when you woke up surrounded by blood and pieces of… something. About how you called your friend to clean it up for you, and how disgusted with you he was afterwards, enough to cut ties with you.

You finish by talking about the pills showing up out of nowhere again, because you're pretty sure he didn't believe you the first time.

"The fucking pills tended to give me amnesia, and because of that I honestly don't know if I killed someone that night, but I really think I did. I massacred them. I think I even saw their ghost in dreams when I first got here." You feel like you're forgetting something, but you can't for the life of you remember what. 

"David…" Simon reaches out to touch your face. "You're the same as me, then. I mean, if you really did kill someone. You didn't want to, did you?" You shake your head. "I could just as well be getting visited by the ghosts of the two cops I killed. In all honesty, I don't know if I'll ever stop feeling guilty for it. But I didn't mean for that to happen. I know for their loved ones that must sound like the biggest pile of bullshit in the world. But if I want to try to forgive myself, that's how I gotta think. I never say it wasn't my fault because it was. I mean, I'm the one who did it. 

"I was the one with the gun. I pulled the trigger. I was the one who… even in a wheelchair, was still faster than two goddamn cops. I was the one that even without training, still managed to shoot both of them in the head." Suddenly Simon pulls his hand back to hide his face. "Shit. Were they rookies or something?"

"Maybe they were, and maybe they shouldn't have sent two rookies together to a potentially dangerous situation."

Simon makes a noise under his hand, and you can't tell if it's a snort or a scoff. After a long while, he lowers his hand, looking outside the window. "Maybe they shouldn't."

You run a finger over his tear-stricken face, and he looks at you so sadly but somehow smiling with red eyes and nose. You love him so much it hurts. "Thank you, David. For… for telling me, and for being here."

You take one of his hands on yours and kiss it. "Anytime, Si. For whatever you need."

You come back to doctor Kellogs waiting for you in your room, and he doesn't look particularly happy. 

"What can I do for you, Mr. Doctor?"

"David… you have to stop seeing Simon."

Well, motherfucker.


	18. Chapter 18

You can't believe what you're hearing. They know? 

"No fucking way! You can't make me!", you eloquently put, not only managing to sound like a 10 year old, but you're also probably wrong.

"David, this is for both your own sakes. Simon is very unstable. He's easy to anger, and he has violent tendencies. And he harms himself, too. It's highly detrim--"

"He hasn't been 'unstable'" you do the air quotes, "once ever since I first talked to him. At least not unlike any other person. And he's lonely, doc. He needs someone to talk to."

"And you think you're this someone?"

Yes, of course! What the fuck is he implying? "I do."

"Well, you see, it goes both ways, you know. The harmful relationship."

Wha-- oh, because you're a junkie and a lowlife. "Do you really think I'm gonna induce him to pop some pills? To become a crackhead? That's really stupid, did you know that?"

"David…" Uh-oh. Judging by his tone, it seems you've managed to piss off doctor Special K.

You sigh. "Look, talk to his doctor, alright? He'll tell you Simon's mood has changed, alright. But I doubt it was for the worse." Yeah. You made him smile, damnit. Can any of them say that? "And in case you haven't noticed, I'm happier too."

"I don't know, David." You want to punch him so bad. 

"How did you find out anyway?"

"One of our colleagues noticed how close you were getting and followed you after he saw you sneaking out."

Jonesy. Fucking Jonesy. You don't want to just punch him. You want to punch his fucking head off. "Doctor, please. Talk to Simon's doctor. I was thinking about doing that myself, because I was tired of having so little time with him."

After a long moment watching you, the doctor finally caves. "Fine. I'll talk to Purnell. But don't keep your hopes up, David. This is a very irregular situation."

Irregular or not, whatever happens, you've already made up your mind that you'll continue seeing Simon whether they let you or not. You'll find a way.

***

You only hear from doctor Kellogs the next day, as Jeanette comes to your room to take you to his office.

To your surprise, Simon's in there too, and standing next to him is a bald old man, ugly as hell.

"David, I'm doctor Purnell, Simon's doctor."

"Uh, hi."

"Sit down, please."

Before you do, you pick up the chair and place it next to Simon.

"You were right, you know. Simon's mood has indeed improved ever since you arrived. And I have no reason not to believe it isn't due to his friendship with you."

Friendship, huh. Sure, that's true enough. You love Simon as a friend. You just happen to love him as a lover, too.

The old man continues. "I was opposed to it when I read your file. I shared the same worries as my colleague here. But Simon insists to me that he has nothing but a good time when you're together."

A good time, eh Simon? You try to throw a smug smile his way, but his very red face shows nothing but a fixed gaze to a point on the corner of the wall where the wallpaper is peeling off.

"Therefore, we will allow this irregularity to continue. If… _if_ there are no sorts of altercations. Any changes for the worse on either your cases, we'll be cutting this off. Permanently."

Yes! Now you won't have to kill everybody and escape with Simon. "Thank you! I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, me too." Simon finally glances at you as he speaks, but his face's still red, and you wonder if you can hold yourself not to kiss him in front of these two coots. 

"Uh… and that means I don't have to sneak out to see him anymore, right?"

"You can see each other whenever you want, as long as it doesn't interfere with other commitments or curfew."

You're surprised that it's doctor Kellogs saying this. You thought he'd be opposed to it no matter what.

There's one last thing you want to do, although you have no idea how Simon will react. But he's fine with the nurses knowing, so… 

You put your arm over the chair's arm, with your palm turned up. "By the way, when you say 'seeing each other', you do know it means _seeing each other_ , right?" Now you just hope Simon won't leave you hanging.

After a moment, you feel his warm hand landing on top of yours, and you don't have to look to know he's even redder than before.

You can almost hear doctor Kellogs' jaw hitting the floor, but Simon's doctor just laughs.

For now, everything is okay.

***

After being thoroughly questioned about using protection, Doctor Purnell takes Simon back to his room, and you go along to enjoy your newfound freedom, and on the way you stop by the security station so he can tell the guards that you're now allowed to roam around the fifth floor.

It's only when you're both alone that it dawns on you what a shitty thing you just did. Damn, David. Didn't you know you're not supposed to out someone without their consent?

"Fuck, Simon. Look. Before you say anything, I… I wasn't thinking. I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I… fuck."

"About what? Because you told them? I don't care. I told the nurses too."

"Yeah, but… I shouldn't have done that, alright? I was feeling bold and stupid. And I am sorry. I'm openly bisexual, and I don't give a fuck about who knows or what they think about me." Except maybe your family, right David? "But to expose someone else without their permission is a dick move. I'm glad you don't care, but I'm still sorry."

"David, look, I don't even know if I'm bisexual myself, or if I just like fooling around with you, but it doesn't matter either way. I guess I don't care what people think either. It's fine. You can tell whoever you want. I'm gonna be embarrassed because that's the way I am. But it would be the same thing if you were a girl. That's not it. I'm just…"

Real shy, and real beautiful and precious. You finish his thought in you head as you lean down to kiss him. It doesn't feel right, so you pick up the chair and sit beside him before you continue. But then you immediately change your mind again, stand up and sit on the bed. "Y'know, Lee must have put a lot of effort in her gift, we shouldn't let it go to waste."

Simon rolls his eyes and starts to get on the bed, which you quickly help. "Why don't you just say that you're horny?"

"What's the fun in that?"


	19. Chapter 19

When you wake up, you're mostly uncovered, and Simon's scrutinizing your whole being. You smile. "You can ask, you know." You wonder if it's about the scars or the tattoos. Or both.

"I didn't say anything the other day because, well, I was nervous as hell, alright. This thing on your chest."

"Which one?"

"The tattoo. Is that supposed to be a bullet wound? So edgy, David."

You laugh and resist the urge to hit him with a pillow. "What can I say, I was 12, I was confused as hell about my sexuality and I wanted to feel manlier."

"What? You were 12? Who the hell tattoos a 12 year old kid?"

"Pshh, many people, if you know where to look. Or if you have friends in the wrong places."

"So you've always hung out with the bad crowd, huh. Cool, no wonder you have so many stories to tell."

"I'd hang out with whoever would put up with me. There was this gang, they called themselves the Naysayers, but that was just a front for the real organization. This was their symbol." You show him the Roman XII slightly hidden on your left wrist. "I got his much later though. Well, more like they made me get it. They liked me for some reason, probably because I was a reckless little fucker who would do whatever they told me to do. Tag the police station, take a dump in a fountain in plain daylight, silly shit like that. It was like I was their-- uh…" You really don't wanna say that word after Simon's worries about Jonesy.

"Mascot?" he offers.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it. So they told me to have their symbol on me so everyone would know not to mess with me. I never did find out what kind of fuckeries the real organization was into, nor did I want to. But people who saw their mark rarely ever even looked my way again. Sure, they had rivals, and sure they targeted me. But I've always been known for knowing how to take care of myself. And I obviously wasn't gonna wander into enemy territory on my own. I was reckless, not stupid. 

"They were, though, because they would always come into ours." You wonder if Simon's bored of your story, but you look at him and he's watching you without hardly ever blinking, so you think not. "They always got their asses kicked but they would always come back. And uh… sorry Si. This story doesn't really have an awesome ending. I just got bored of all the brawling and started seeing them less and less. Not much more to it."

"No, it was interesting." He raises his eyebrows in _that_ way. "I might even write my next book about it."

"Well, now you're just fucking with me."

He shrugs. "Who knows. It's not like I have many original ideas anyway. What about your other tattoos? What in the fuck is that on your hand?"

You laugh loud and long. "Took you long enough to ask. I didn't do it, okay. I was at this party, and there was vodka, and there was vodka. And also vodka. I woke up with this shit on my hand. Well, it's not like it isn't true." You wink at him and he adorably blushes while rolling his eyes. "Been meaning to cover it up, but I haven't gotten any brilliant ideas on what to cover it with."

"How about… how about you just add a 'not' here between the 'is' and the 'a'?"

You can't for the life of you determine whether he's serious or not, but it is a brilliant idea either way, and you laugh even louder than before. "You know what? I'm gonna do just that, and add your name under it." The idea of tattooing Simon's name on yourself sends a shiver down your spine.

"Whatever." He shakes his head, but he's smiling. "And the others?"

"This is just a song I used to like." You show him the lyrics on your right arm. "It's from when I was just starting to get interested in punk rock, and I would listen to anything. I'm not really into skate punk but this one kinda stayed with me." You wait for Simon to finish reading it.

"It's pretty cool, I like it. I don't know if I would like what they sound like, but the lyrics are really nice."

"Yeah, it defined me then and it still does. Well, then there's this samurai guy, which I only got because I thought it looked cool." You show him your right shoulder, and he nods.

"And the one on your back?"

You smile. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah. It's kinda surreal. Does it mean anything?"

Even though you drew the black tree and the white upside down under it yourself, you're unsure of what you were thinking when you did it. "It's just a tree. Probably." You're also not sure why you don't tell him about it being your own design. It's nothing you should hide, but you don't think it's important enough to share.

"Not gonna ask me about the scars?"

"They're from fights, right?"

You shrug. "Mostly."

He looks at you like he's about to ask, but then he grabs your neck and pulls you towards him. "Maybe you can tell me some other time."

You wholeheartedly agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to see David's tattoos, let me know and I'll post it on tumblr. Or maybe I'll post it either way. Tumblr is yozokai.tumblr.com


	20. Chapter 20

You're standing behind Simon, massaging his shoulders and telling him dirty jokes to try and get him out of his cranky mood, when you hear a commotion outside.

"What's with all the fuckery?"

But before you can take one step to see what's going on, the door opens, and Jeanette, Sissy and Leanne barge in, followed by another girl. A brown-haired skinny girl.

You feel Simons's shoulders tensing up again under your hands.

"Sophie."

Well, motherfucker.

"Oh, you boys are dece--"

"They're not doing anyth--"

"I thought this was my chance to…"

The nurses all speak at the same time, and Sophie just stands there, looking from Simon to you.

"Let's, ah, let's leave so they can…"

"Right, let's go." They leave, carefully closing the door behind them. You don't really know how to read lips, but you could've sworn Leanne mouthed 'kick her bony ass' at you before leaving.

"Hi Simon." She looks at you. "Who are you?"

_I'm Simon's boyfriend_ crosses your mind, but no, you mustn't. "I'm a patient here too."

"Oh. I thought Simon wasn't allowed visitors outside the list."

You give her your sweetest smile, as you go back to massaging Simon's shoulders. "I'm just special like that." You notice Simon hasn't said anything else after announcing who she was, so you lean down, closer than necessary to talk to him. "Hey, are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"I…" As long as he doesn't ask you to leave, everything will be fine. "Um… David…" Nope, you're not going anywhere. "I think I need to talk to Sophie. Would you mind coming back later?" Yeah, you fucking would!

"Of course, Si. No problem." You stand in front of him and take his hand. "I'll see you later." You strengthen your grip on it, and he stares at you, then you let go of him.

On your way out, you send Sophie the deadliest of death glares and decide to stand guard outside Simon's door. But then someone pulls you by the arm and drags you towards the waiting area.

"Why did you leave?"

You roll your eyes. "It's not like I wanted to, Lee. He asked me to. How long do her visits usually take?"

"It varies, but she never takes longer than 20 minutes. And Simon's always miserable afterwards."

"Shit. But I'm here this time, and I'm gonna give her what for. I ain't letting her drag him down anymore." You 'ain't'? Since when do you speak like that?

She smiles brightly. "Wow, I would love to see that. Unfortunately I have an appointment now, but you stay strong, alright David?"

You wave at her. "Alright. See you later."

You wait. Then you wait. And then you stop and wait some more. It feels like two hours have passed already, but as the clock shows you, it's been ten minutes.

"Fuck."

They're making up. That girl finally realized how wonderful Simon is, and he's going to dump you for her, and they're going to be together forever and have beautiful babies that have names that start with an S. It's always been like this for you. When things start getting good, someone throws a bucket of cold shit on your head.

After a staggering amount of time, the door finally opens and Sophie comes out. She spots you sitting down and walks straight towards you.

"Um… Simon told me…" Her face lights up as if a switch has just been pressed. "Well, he mumbled and tossed words around, but from what I could gather… you two are… being… intimate? Is that right?"

Wow. Simon told her? Really? You're so proud of him, you want to burst in laughter. "Yeah, that's right. If we weren't in a hospital, I'd call it dating."

"Do you really think-- David, is it?" You nod. "Do you think this is appropriate?"

Whatever the fuck that means. "Simon needs affection, and I'm here to give him what he needs. If he needs a friend, I'm there for him. If he wants a lover…" You shrug. "I'm there too. I've never pressured him into anything, and I always make sure that's what he really wants before we do anything."

She seems to be taken aback by your words. "Are you serious? You're not just… using him for pleasure?"

Who is this girl? You laugh, shortly. "Sweetheart, if anything, it's the other way around. Not that I have a problem with it. I l… I really like Simon and to be honest, I'm not entirely sure how he feels about me. But I don't matter."

"Oh. You shouldn't talk like that. But I'm glad. I believe you, David, and I'm only looking out for Simon. He's very important to me, too. Alright, I should be going then. I'll schedule my visit next time, so I won't interrupt you two." She blushes again at this last sentence.

But you can't let her leave just yet. Simon has told you not to, but you just can't let the opportunity go to waste. "Just a moment, I have a few questions of my own." She stares at you and says nothing.

You open your mouth and… you've had all this time to think about it, and all you've thought about was how miserable and insecure you are. You don't know what to say. You want her to know that her visits make Simon sad, even if he likes to pretend otherwise. You want… you want to know why did she… why…

"You led him on."

"Excuse me?"

"When you were in school. You led him to believe you were into him." It's not a question, but now you'll have to roll with it.

"I…" She covers her face with her hands. "I did. He was so sweet, and he helped me--"

"So _you_ used him."

"No! It's not like that! Not really. We… we were both so lonely. Everyone bullied me, called me names. I never knew why. And Simon protected me. He just showed up one day and stood up for me. I thought they were going to start to hit him, to bully him too, but they didn't. It's like they were afraid of him. Soon they stopped going after me. I would still hear them saying things while I passed, but it was things like, 'she's going out with the psycho now, we lost our plaything.' I didn't know what they were talking about, Simon was nothing but sweet. But if they wanted to think like that… I would let them.

"I liked his company, I finally had someone to talk to, and it seemed he was the same. And… when there were people around us, I would pretend we were closer than we really were. I…" She takes her hands from her face, tears streaming down her face. "I'm such a horrible person! I'm the one who doesn't deserve his friendship. I… he… when he told me his feelings, he was going through such a hard time, and he kept injuring himself. I was so mad at him, I wanted him to stop doing that. I barely even paid attention when he said… when he… oh my God, I just abandoned him! How could I do that?"

Her tears are like a torrent now, and you almost feel bad for her. If only the person she scorned was anyone else other than Simon.

"Did you apologize?"

"What?"

"Did you apologize to him for all that? Did you beg his forgiveness?"

"I… I started to, once, but he said there was no need for apologies, that everything was fine. Oh my God. Oh my God I'm such an idiot. What do I do?"

"Well, I think he's still right where you left him." You motion your head towards Simon's room just in case she didn't understand what you meant.

"Will you… will you go with me?"

"Sure." You stand up and follow her back to Simon's room. She knocks on the door and opens it a little. Damn, doesn't she have any sense of privacy? It's a good thing she wants to schedule her future visits, or she'll end up getting an eyeful, and you doubt she shares the same curiosities about the sex life of two guys that the nurses do.

"David? Hey, listen, I'm sorry-- Sophie?"

You smile as she closes the door and wait again, not impatiently this time, and you can hear Sophie crying and apologizing over and over while she tells him everything. You hope Simon will let her this time. The way he is, he might insist again that there's nothing she should apologize for. 

There are moments of silence between Sophie's crying words, and you know Simon's using his softest voice to talk to her. Maybe he knows you're eavesdropping.

After a while, you hear her saying goodbye, and promising to come back soon. "Thank you, Simon. Thank you so much. For always being you. You're wonderful."

Damn right he is. You move away from the door so you won't get caught and lean against a wall. Sophie leaves and looks around, then wipe her eyes before spotting you.

"Can I… can I…" She throws her arms around your neck without finishing the sentence, and you hold back a sigh. Even if you're not a very big fan of hugs, you still pass your arms around her.

She holds you for a moment, then lets go, trying to smile. "Thank you, David. Thanks to you, I think things will be okay now."

"That's good, I'm happy for you. For both of you." You watch her waving at you as she leaves, then you approach Simon's room.

You knock. "Si?" And you wait because you have a fucking sense of boundaries.

"Come in." He's looking out the window, probably watching Sophie leaving. When you close the door, he turns around and smiles. "I told you not to talk to her, but… you know what? I'm glad you didn't listen to me."

You approach him and hold his face on both hands. "Glad I could help." You give him a quick kiss, because you don't like kissing him while you're standing and he's sitting down.

Damn, you wish you could have something normal with him, outside this place. But when you leave, he's going to stay behind. You know you're going to visit him every single day if you can, but it's just not the same thing.

But that's something you should contemplate later. You sit on the bed and lean on Simon's pillow. "Hey, she mentioned something about a list? Is there anyone else in it?"

"I think just my mom and my grandmother. I know I have an uncle too, but I've never seen him. He lives in the States since before I was born. My mom is in jail, like I told you, and my grandmother, well, I think she doesn't even know I'm alive. Or care, for that matter."

Foot, meet mouth. "Oh, fuck. I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's okay. The feeling is mutual."

You almost ask more about Simon's mother, but if he hasn't said anything about her so far, he probably doesn't want to. You're pretty sure it's not a fun story, and this day that had everything to end in disaster, actually turned out pretty great. You're not going to ruin that.

For all you know, the least Simon thinks about it, the best.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains trigger warnings, scroll to the end notes to see it.

Since you're free to see Simon whenever you want now, you decide to find out if you can have breakfast together. Well, as long as he's willing to share.

When you enter his room and he doesn't turn away from the window, you wonder if he's seeing Jonesy out there. Even though you know you don't have to hide anymore, you stand behind him to look outside, but there's no one there.

Something's wrong.

"Si, did something happen?"

He turns his head only halfway towards you, but you can still see a bruise on his forehead, and you rush towards him. "Fuck! Who did this to you?"

"No one. I hit my head."

It doesn't really sound like he's lying, but he's clearly hiding something. "Simon, I don't usually like to pry, but you're hurt. I can't just keep quiet about it." You put your hands on his face to study the bruise. It does look like he hit his head, but it also looks like a repeated injury. It's almost like…

"Was this on purpose?"

He pushes your hands away sighing. "I'm fine now. It was just… I… I had a bad dream, and I couldn't deal with it in the usual way. I hadn't had one in so long. Why do I still…" Simon trails off, and you continue examining the bruise. It doesn't look like he hit his head hard enough to bleed, but it still looks painful. 

"Do you want anything for it? I could call Leanne and--"

"I'm fine!" He sighs again, lowering his head. "I'm sorry. It doesn't hurt. I mean, it does a little, but I don't want it to stop."

"Simon… please. If… if you can't talk to me about it, at least tell your doctor." That's rich coming from someone who has barely said a thing about his own personal problems to his doctor.

Simon exhales in what could have been a chuckle in a different situation. "I never told him about it, and I'm not gonna tell you either."

"Simon…" You have no idea what to say.

"I did write about it once. I think I've told you about my 'book' once, didn't I? Anyway, I put this thing in it, but I changed it enough so no one would recognize it for what it actually was."

You touch his face again, this time running the back of your finger over his face. "Don't tell me then. But if you ever have this dream again, or think about it, ask someone to call me so I can be here with you."

"David…" He shows you a sad smile, and your own sadness turns into a desire to destroy whoever it was that made him feel like this. "You don't actually exist, do you? I'm just imagining you, I'm sure of it. Someday I'm gonna wake up and I'll have been talking to my pillow all this time."

"You know, sometimes I feel the same thing, but then I smooch my pillow, and it tastes like feathers, so I know that can't be it."

Simon watches you for a moment, still with that sad smile, then moves towards his bed. "Help me get in, will you?"

"Sure." When he's cosy under the covers, he motions for you to join him.

"Wait, no. Close the blinds first. Maybe it'll be easier in the dark."

You feel dread in the pit of your stomach as you close the blinds and join him in bed. You lie beside him, and he passes both arms around you, lying his head on your chest. You wonder what he thinks about your frenetic heartbeats.

He doesn't say anything for a while, and suddenly you don't want him to. You don't want him reliving whatever this is. Except… he already did, didn't he?

You caress his hair lovingly, and eventually he begins to speak.

"When I was 12, we used to live with my mom's sister. Aunt Lena worked during the day and my mom worked at night. She didn't like it, but she wouldn't allow me being alone, so this way, one or the other was always taking care of me. Little did she know I'd be better off on my own, whether we lived on the wrong side of tracks or not. My aunt… she… she would…"

"Simon." Even though all strength has left you, you hold him as tight as you can. "Don't. Don't say anything else. I--"

"She touched me. With her hands, and her mouth, and she would tell me it was to show how much she loved me. When I told her my mom didn't touch me like that, she said mothers weren't allowed to do that, only the aunties. But if I told my mom, she would be sad that she couldn't love me as much as she did."

"Holy fuck."

"I was 12. I wasn't as naïve as I could have been. I knew what she was doing was wrong. It felt disgusting. But I believed her, and I didn't want to make my mom cry. But she noticed… well, something. It wasn't like I was a happy little kid who suddenly stopped being happy. School was a fucking hell already. You know, I remember them telling me the only reason they bullied me was because they picked my name out of a fucking hat.

"But at least when I got home, I would watch something on TV and be distracted for a little while. After she started doing that, it was like I didn't have the strength to do anything anymore. I had no place to hide, no place to feel safe. Mom begged me to tell her, but how could I? It was so fucking embarrassing, so gross. I didn't tell her about what the bullies did, there was no way in hell I would tell her that.

"Then my mom got fired, so she got home earlier. She saw it. She pulled my aunt by the hair and slit her throat. She almost cut my aunt's head off. Then she hugged me and cried all night, with her sister's body lying beside the bed.

"The police didn't believe her. They said she did it for the money, because the house was supposed to be hers in case something happened to my aunt. They said there was no way she could have done that to me. 'At least if the genders were reversed…' I remember some fat bastard saying that to me, and I remember how much I wanted to kill him.

"So they sent my mom to jail and me to go live with my grandmother, which I hadn't seen since I was 3 or 4. She had disowned my mom after she got pregnant and wouldn't tell who the father was. Even though it's been so long, I remember her calling my mom a whore, because it was the first time I had heard that word. But she wasn't. She wasn't, David. I've never seen her with any man. She never had boyfriends, never went out on dates. She…

"She'd probably just been dealt the same lucky hand as me."

Before you can find your voice to speak again, Simon goes on.

"Anyway, I went to live with the old rat, and she would barely acknowledge me, and to be honest, I preferred it that way. But she was always on the phone with someone, yapping about how her whore of a daughter killed her little angel, and I was always holding back not to follow in on my mom's footsteps.

"I found a switchblade, and I started taking it to school with me. They stopped bullying me. But when one of the teachers saw me with it, he took me to a psychiatrist. I didn't tell him shit about my aunt, but I could tell him other stuff. He medicated me, but… I didn't get better. I didn't get worse either, so there's that.

"I lived three years with my grandmother, then I ran away. I took part-time jobs and slept at a hostel. School was less terrible, but I told you about that already. It took a while, but I gathered enough money to live on my own. I had to go back to my grandmother so she could sign the papers for me. And she did, but not before telling me exactly how she thought I had gotten the money. I just let her say whatever she wanted. I was free and I didn't care.

"I was free for a while. If I had known what would come next, I would've enjoyed it a little bit more."

"Oh my God, Simon…"

"Oh my God… I should be the one saying that. I was gonna tell you one thing and ended up telling you my whole life story. I… well, you can guess what I dreamt about. She was all over me, but she was a monster, with white eyes and bits of her face missing. She bit me and then started to eat me. I took the longest shower I've taken in years, and when I couldn't get the feeling of her off me, I… I hit my head on the bathroom wall, over and over, just like a crazy person."

"Simon…"

"David, you're shaking. What--"

"Simon, I'm gonna dig up this cunt and kill her again." You don't remember feeling this angry before. Ever. "I'm gonna piss on her bones then set her on fire."

"No, you're not. Calm down."

"You think I won't? Just tell me where she's buried and--"

"She was cremated. Someone's already set her on fire."

"Simon, fuck… how could… how could anyone do something like that to someone like you? You're so…" Precious. Innocent. Beautiful. Unblemished. Regardless of how much everything and everyone have tried to taint him.

When you don't continue, he raises his eyebrows at you. "Didn't you know? We are all monsters."

Well, now you know you'll never tell him about the scar under your eye. Because in your story there is an 'almost', that changes everything.

The guy was huge, in all senses of the word; told you to suck him off or he'd rip your eyes out. He had grabbed your knife and decided to give you a demonstration of what he meant by that. But what the dumb bitch didn't know was that your obsession of the moment was making knives, and you had two other on you. And with his hands occupied, he could do nothing when you took the one you kept in your boot and shivved him in the balls. You stabbed him. Eight times in the balls, and a few more in his fat gut. Then you picked up your knives and left. Whatever happened to him afterwards, you don't give a fuck. It doesn't count. It's not murder if it's a rapist.

You kiss Simon's head and hold him tight again. "Wanna stay like this all day?"

"That… sounds really great. Doctor Purnell is out at a conference today, and I think both the asshole and your doctor are gone too. We have nothing else in our schedules."

"Perfect. Si… I know it took a lot of strength for you to tell me all of it. Thank you. Like, really. For trusting me with this."

"I… I don't think I could tell anyone else, though. I didn't think it would change anything, but it did. I feel better for getting it off my chest. Thank you for listening, David."

Neither of you say anything else after that, and the next thing you know, you have a mouth full of mashed potatoes. You clumsily chew and swallow, confused by where it'd come from.

"Oh, you're awake. Mrs. Jansen brought me my lunch, but when she saw I had a guest, she took it away and came back with a double portion."

Hey, you did come for breakfast, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: attempted rape, rape, paedophilia, incest, implied incest


	22. Chapter 22

When doctor Kellogs mention that you're recovering much quicker than he expected, you panic. They're going to discharge you sooner than the agreed upon date if you have no reason to stay here anymore.

You got to give him something. You decided to keep your perfect family life a secret. The self-hatred you hide behind a confident façade was never a topic of conversation between you two either. You only talked about paranoia and obsession, and while you still don't particularly feel the need to ever get yourself a cell phone, you don't feel the need to obsess over anything either. And you're certainly not addicted to those pills anymore.

Pills. You can barely remember them.

Anyway, you got to give him something.

"You know, there's something I never mentioned, because I didn't think there was anything that could be done about it. But this thing has been eating at me for fucking ever."

"What is it?" Apparently the doctor notices you're not lying, because he seems genuinely interested in what you have to say.

"Before I came here, something happened. At my house. It was… I woke up to a violent scene, that's all I can tell you. But I don't remember what it was, and it makes me feel guilty that I might have hurt someone. Maybe we should talk about that?"

"Well, we could do more than that, actually. Tomorrow at 4:00 pm come see me in hypnotherapy. Do you know where it is?"

"Yeah, I think I passed by it a couple of times. Uh… does it really work?"

"It's going to depend on your level of commitment, David. If you really want to do this, and if you trust me, and trust it, I believe we can reach some results."

Trust him? Ooh boy, that's a tough one. "Well, I think we'll be fine, then. See you tomorrow, doc."

Maybe he could hypnotize you into trusting him first?

***

You go to Simon to tell him the news, but he throws a bucket of cold water on your enthusiasm.

"They tried it with me before. When I first got here, and didn't want to talk about anything, I used to say I didn't remember. So doctor Purnell decided to hypnotize me but it didn't work."

"Mr. Doctor says you gotta believe it, or it won't come true."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Do you?"

"Nnnnnyess? Come on, I gotta try. What if it works?"

"Yeah, David. What if it works, and they find out you killed someone? What then?"

"Eh, it's hypnosis. I doubt it would hold out in court."

Simon frowns in confusion. "Then why…"

"I'm getting better. Way earlier than I should."

Simon makes a weird expression, then snorts. "That's right. For some reason, I forgot you don't live here like me." He moves towards the bed and transfer himself to it.

"Fuck. Si…" You shake your head, looking for the right words. "I'm gonna be here, like every day. It's gonna be practically the same thing. I mean, unless you don't want me to…" You push his chair to the side and put a knee on the bed, right between his legs.

He lies back on the bed and pulls you along. "No, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to do that. You know, but only if you really wanted to." Now where in heavens did he learn to talk like that? He starts pulling your shirt over your head.

"Who's horny now?" He doesn't blush, and you figure it's only because all his blood has gone to one place by now. When you fondle him, you find that you're right. "Damn, I created a monster."

Instead of continuing the bantering, he kisses you, and you have no qualms about that.

***

You fell asleep again, but this time, you woke up before Simon. You watch him peacefully sleeping, wondering if it's a creepy thing to do.

"What are you staring at?"

Oh, not creepy at all, considering he wasn't actually sleeping. "You. This dot between your eyebrows. Does it do anything if I push it?" You put your finger on the tiny mole he has there. Slowly, he takes his left arm from under the covers, and when his hand shows up, he's giving you the finger. With his eyes still closed.

You laugh and kiss his pale chest. As you do so, he grabs your face, all playfulness gone from his. He looks nervous as hell. Then he smiles, and your heart just about explodes off your chest.

"David, you know, I--"

Someone knocks on the door, and you swear under your breath.

What was he going to say?

You sigh. "Should we tell them to come in?"

"Well, I'm wearing my pants, while yours are…" He looks around the room. "There, by the window. If you're okay with that, go ahead."

"Come in." You simply pull enough of the blanket to cover your modesty.

Jonesy. Fucking Jonesy. "Hey guys. Hope I'm not intruding." He damn well knows he is.

You grab Simon's waist possessively and glare at him. "How can we help you in this lovely afternoon, Jonesy?"

He glances at your pants by the window, smiles at you and sits on the visitor's chair. "Just dropping by to check on you two, actually. How are things with St. Mercy's most popular, and only, I imagine, couple?"

You turn your gaze to Simon. "Hey Si. I'm good. You good?" He stares at you with that look that you love, the one that says 'you're crazy, but that's what I like about you', and gives you the subtlest of smiles, something that wouldn't even pass as one to most people.

"I'm good too, _Dave_. How about that."

You blatantly gape at him. If this wasn't Simon, you could swear he was trying to hold back laughter.

Dave. You've never liked people calling you that, until this very moment, although you kinda doubt it'll ever happen again.

"That's… good, then." Oh, right. You had completely forgotten Jonesy was here. "I'm just following your doctors orders, you know. Making sure you're not--"

"What? Killing each other? Smoking weed? The only thing that was smoked today was my--" Simon slaps a hand over your mouth. How did he know what you were going to say? You cross your arms and innocently look at him.

Jonesy watches you two for a moment, then his gaze lands on Simon, instantly making you want to jump at his throat.

"Where did you get that scar on your chest, David?"

You look down at the hook-shaped scar on your chest. It's a big one, but you don't remember. Judging by how jagged it looks, you probably fell over a broken bottle or something. "This? A voodoo priest tried to rip my heart off. With his bare hands."

"Is that so." His eyes are still on Simon, who's now frowning at him. "Did he tell you about it, Simon?"

"No, I never asked."

"Hmm. You're not curious? About each other's pasts?"

What the hell is he trying to do? "Oh, I know all about Simon because I've been stalking him ever since he was little. Oops. And now he knows mine."

"Simon, how about--" Jonesy's phone rings, and he stands up and goes by the window to answer it, carefully stepping around your pants.

You make a gun shape with your fingers and try to communicate to Simon how much you want to kill Jonesy.

"Same."

"How about this button, does it do anything?" You poke his nipple, and he bats your hand away.

"No, but yours does." He doesn't poke it. He pinches it. You squeal, louder than necessary and dramatically fall off the bed. It's at this point that Jonesy finishes his call and moves towards the door.

"Okay, guys. I'll leave you to enjoy yourselves, then. Soon David's going home, so you have to appreciate your time together, huh?"

Fuck you, Jonesy. "Who knows. I might have a relapse soon as I'm out on the streets, then I'll be back faster than you can say 'voyeuristic bastard'." You hear a loud snort and turn your head just in time to see Simon covering his mouth with one hand. Ignoring Jonesy's existence for good, you climb back on the bed and stare at Simon. "Voyeuristic bastard", you repeat, but nothing happens. "Nine nimble noblemen nightly nibbling native nards." No sound, but his eyes widen a bit. "You know, I must've gotten my smarts from my mom, 'cause my dad still got his."

"What are you doing? Have I mentioned you're crazy?"

"You laughed! And I missed it!"

At that, Simon's eyes widen and he looks around. You look too, wondering when was it that Jonesy left. "Oh, so you're trying to make me laugh, is that it? You're gonna have to try way harder than that, then. And I didn't, I just snorted."

"Well, your nose laughed. By the way, are you by any chance… ticklish?" You wiggle your fingers in front of his face.

"No." Ah, he spoke way too soon. Which means he is.

"Alright. You won't mind if I put it to the test then." Before you can touch him, he bats both of your hands away.

"No, stop it! Okay. Haha." He just says 'haha' and now you're the one who wants to burst in laughter. 

"That's not what I want, you tit!"

"I'm sorry, David. You can try again Sunday. I have to go to bed early because I have physiotherapy tomorrow, and I like to be well-rested for it."

That's right, and you decide you're going to bed too, because you really don't want to fall asleep during your hypnotherapy. Unless that's what supposed to happen.

You put your pants back on, and you're about to say goodnight to Simon, when you remember something.

"Hey, were you going to say something before that cow so rudely barged in?"

He looks you straight in the eye. "I don't remember."

The mechanical voice makes you smile, and you kiss his cheek. "Alright, then. Goodnight. Tell me when you do."

You can't believe how good things are going. A month ago, you'd probably say you didn't deserve it. But after all, maybe you do.


	23. Chapter 23

_You're in your bedroom, but you see no sign of blood and gore. Oh, but your pills are by the window. You dutifully walk up to them, shake a couple of them onto your hand and swallow them dry. Then the phone rings, and you know your mother won't answer it. It'll be okay, though, it's late, and she's probably sleeping. You answer it, and it's Spike, asking for a ride. There's a ringing noise in the back that starts to become softer, as he's probably running away from it. You tell him to wait for you in an inconspicuous place._

_Inconspicuous. If you can still pronounce words like that, it means the pills still haven't taken effect. As soon as you think this, you feel a punch to the head, and the world around you becomes a hellish landscape. You hot-wire the first car you see, which happens to be an ugly white monstrosity you wouldn't be caught dead driving on different circumstances. You drive around the posh neighborhood Spike usually swipes, and soon enough you hear the ringing of an alarm._

_Another punch in the head, and you're driving by a convenience store, where Spike is sitting on the sidewalk. He looks like a monster straight out of a zombie movie, but you've learned to take control of the hallucinations enough to keep in mind it's still your friend. He talks to you, but you don't understand a single word he's saying. You just say 'uh-huh' and hope he'll stop talking, because his mumbling is freaking you out. You drop him off at the Sankt Eriksplan station and receive another punch in the head._

_You're sitting in the car, but it's dead now, and you can't hot-wire it again. When you're about to just abandon it and walk home, you see a glint on your lap. It's the key, it probably fell off from somewhere. You put it on the ignition and turn it. You don't realize you're stepping on the accelerator as the car moves forward with a jump, and then your vision blurs. You can see the side of a building quickly approaching, but suddenly someone's there. He looks at the car that's about to make him lose use of his legs. A boy in a grey hoodie. You get a good look at his face just as the car impacts. He's not an indiscernible monster like Spike, he's just a kid. He's just_

"No. No. No. Fucking no!"

Your stomach feels like you just swallowed a bag full of sulfuric acid ice cubes.

You hear a voice in the distance, calling your name. You know it's Simon, and he's standing up. He's running towards you.

"David! David!"

You don't know what to do. Does he know? You don't know what to do.

"David, what happened?"

He doesn't know. You're gonna tell him.

Only when he reaches you that you realize that his face is all bloodied.

"What did you do, David?"

His hands reach for your neck, and you open your eyes.

"David! What happened? Talk to me!"

The doctor and a couple of nurses stand around you with worried expressions, but you can't think about them right now.

"Where's Simon? I have to talk to Simon!"

"Simon's in physiotherapy right now, David. It'll have to wait. What happened to you? Is everything alright?"

"Fuck! I gotta go! I have… I have…"

_What did you do, David?_

Calm yourself.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath and open them again.

"Huh? What's going on? Where am I?"

The doctor looks befuddled. "You… you don't remember?"

"No, I… ah. You were gonna try the hypnosis thing, right? Well, did you do it yet?" You cross your arms and shake your head. "You made me dance like a chicken, didn't you? I just know you did. You got that look on you."

"David, it's not that kind of-- ahem, no, well, you were screaming. You sounded desperate. You kept saying--"

"Huh. Really? I don't remember. Did it _just_ happen?" You wrinkle your nose. "Well, fuck. Guess you're gonna have to hypnotize me again to remember it. Kind of a mind fuck, huh? But uh… I feel really tired right now. Is it okay if we leave that for later? I think I'm gonna lie down for a moment."

"...Yes, alright. It is indeed best that you rest right now. We'll talk more about what happened later. I believe the session was too strenuous. We should try something lighter for the next one."

You shrug and start to get up. "Whatever you say." As you're leaving, the doctor puts a hand on your shoulder.

"Leanne is going to walk you to your room."

"Ah, you don't have to--"

"We do, David."

"...Alright then."

As soon as you're outside the hypnotherapy room, you notice Leanne watching you worriedly.

"Hey, don't look like that. I'm fine. Whatever happened, I don't remember."

"Are you sure you're okay, David?"

"Yeah, don't worry about me. Hey, do you think I could talk to Simon today?"

"It's best that you don't. You know how he gets after physiotherapy. That's why he prefers to spend the Saturdays on his own."

"Oh. Well, that's fine. I guess I'll see him tomorrow then."

You reach your room, but before you can enter, Leanne grabs your hands. "Are you really sure you're alright? Do you want me to stay with you?"

You smile like she just said the silliest thing ever. "Oh my God, stop babying me, Lee. I promise you I'm fine, just tired. I'll find you when I wake up so I can show you just how fine I am." You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively at her and open the door.

She finally smiles at you. "Oh, lucky me. If only I didn't know your heart belonged to a certain someone else."

You say goodbye and close the door. Then you look around. Slowly, you reach over the closet where you've kept the pen you've signed the contract with when you first came in. You knew it would come in handy one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way I chose S:t Eriksplan because it's Saxon station irl :p


	24. Chapter 24

_Simon_

_The last thing I wanted was to ask for you to forgive me. Because you know I don't deserve it. Or you'll know when you finish reading this._

_The only reason I'll ask this of you is so you can give your own mind a rest. I'm dead. You can stop wishing for revenge on the person who ruined your life._

_It was me, Simon. I was driving that car that night. And I left you there. I left you for dead. So, like I said, I don't deserve your forgiveness. I deserve your eternal hatred. But the thing is, I don't want you to, because it's gonna eat at you if you keep thinking about it._

_So please, just think it's finally over, justice has been served, and you can focus on something else. Focus on getting better, Simon. On clearing your head and trying to live a happy life. I know it's gonna be hard, but you deserve it. You deserved to be so, so happy, and I took that away from you. I hope I rot in hell for this._

_Well, I guess I should let you go, then. You'll never know just how fucking sorry I am. Shit, Simon. I love you. I love you so much, and I did this to you. What kind of fucking cosmical joke huh, for things to end up like this._

_I'm sorry, Simon. I'm so, so sorry. I love you._

_David_

You open your eyes and look around. The whiteness of the ceiling, walls, floor and sheets hurt you, and you close them tight for a few moments before you try again. Your mind only now registers the beeping coming from beside you, and that coupled with an IV stand beside the bed makes it pretty obvious where you are.

You're in the hospital, alive when you should be dead.

"David!"

You look at the door and feel a hand reaching into your chest and ripping your heart out. Simon comes in with red eyes that look absolutely infuriated.

"What did you do, David?"

You sit up as you hear this. "Si--" He approaches the bed and punches you in the face. Hard. The doctor pulls him back as you fall back to the pillow.

"You fucking idiot! What were you thinking?"

You were thinking about ridding him of your existence, what else? "Si… mon…"

"Try not to speak, David. You might make it start bleeding again." Leanne. She looks at you with a mix of sadness and a badly concealed anger.

"Why, David? Why did you do that?" Simon's trying to get out of the doctor's grasp, as the doctor pushes him towards the door.

You try to speak again, but nothing comes out. You look at Leanne, mimicking a pen and paper. She looks like she's just about to punch you too. "Are you fucking joking? Bloody hell no!"

"Leanne!" She puts a hand over her mouth as the doctor reprimands her.

"Let me go, I'm not gonna punch him again." The doctor sighs and pushes Simon's wheelchair near you again, but keeping a certain distance. "Fucking… why the hell would you try to kill yourself out of nowhere like that, David?"

What?

He didn't…

He didn't read the note. He still doesn't know. Is it still on your bedside table where you left it? You look around, but it's not there anymore. You really didn't think this through, did you? Why would Simon be the one to find it? Did you think maybe someone else would find it and just hand it to him?

"I… who…"

"Me, David." Leanne again. "I couldn't shake the feeling that you were not alright, and decided to come back and keep you company while you slept. You were sleeping, alright. In a pool of blood, with a pen stuck in your neck. You're lucky I have a good hunch for these things."

Lucky. Hah. Hilarious. What do you do now?

"Simon, we're letting David rest now, alright? We'll come back when he's good to talk, so he can tell us all about… what happened." He starts pushing Simon out.

"No! I'm not leaving. I—"

"Simon, please." Leanne pleads with Simon and takes the doctor's place, slowly pushing him outside. She stays with him for a moment and comes back, while the doctor adjusts your IV drip. He walks out, leaving you alone with the angriest nurse you've ever seen. "Now, then." She reaches into her uniform pocket and fishes out your note, holding it between two fingers. You reach for it, but she puts it away again.

"Lee…"

"You can't, David. It's gonna tear him apart."

"It's… tearing me… apart…"

"Oh, Davey... " She hugs you tight, minding the drip and your bandaged wound, and as your first tears start rolling down, you start to feel drowsy.

When you wake up again, it's dark, and Leanne is sitting beside you with a cup of coffee on her hands. She's reading a book by the lamp, and when she sees you're awake, she shushes you before you even open your mouth.

"Here, drink this." She hands you a cup of water, which you gladly accept, as your throat is burning, inside and out. "Try speaking softly."

"Why… did you save… me?"

"No, David. Try again."

You don't know what to say. You don't know what to do. "I can't… live… knowing what I did… to him."

"Yes, you can, David. You can and you will. Maybe… I've been thinking. Maybe you should tell him, after all. You don't know, you can't know how he'll react. But we'll work things out. I promise you. We'll find a way." She strokes your hair as she speaks, and you feel like crying again, but you hold it back. "I'm not telling anyone, about this alright? After… if you speak to Simon, you should decide what to do afterwards."

"I'm… gonna turn myself in."

"David…" She sighs. "Think carefully about this. Talk to Simon. Do you think that's what he'll want?"

"Probably. That or seeing me dead. I can help either way."

She sighs again. "You are one stubborn puppy."

Puppy. That word reawakens something in you.

How _could_ you do this? You were going to leave Simon alone… with Jonesy? Really?

You can't die. Not before making sure that Simon's gonna be okay. Even if you tell him, and he hates you. You'll find a way to protect him.

"Leanne… I remembered something I have to do. Thank you. I couldn't die before doing this."

"What, Davey? What is it that you have to do?"

You can't tell her, not now. You need to know more. Who Simon has talked about this with, who you can trust. So you shake your head. "It's something for Simon. Something important. If I can, I'll talk to you about it some other time.

She smiles lovingly. "Alright, sweetie. Do you want to go back to sleep? My shift's almost ending, but Sissy'll be here after I go."

"Yeah… seems like a good idea."

As you start to doze off again, you hear Sissy arriving, and Leanne quietly explaining everything to her.

You dream you and Simon are happy, together, in a world where those fucking pills never existed. If you could choose, you're not sure if you would want to wake up from it.


End file.
